


Kamaitachi Chronicles

by Aviantei



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Multi, old fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2020-07-10 21:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19912195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviantei/pseuds/Aviantei
Summary: So one day I was doing my job, like always, then HE shows up... Let's just say my life would never be the same. Ass.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published on fanfiction.net on June 30, 2010. It's one of my many fics that only got so far, then I let it sit around and ultimately came back to in my quest to finish all my active stories. At the time of this crosspost, it's still incomplete. It's also one of my few stories where I let myself do some minor retconning of character names and details, as I usually just tell myself to deal with it. As such, this version is slightly different than the one originally uploaded to ff.
> 
> Since coming back to this idea in the past couple of years, I've found that I've enjoyed working on poking at the world a lot, especially in a pre-canon space. My original plan had me doing branching story paths (where 2003 diverges from Brotherhood, other places I could mess around with timeline splits), but for the sake of my sanity, I'll likely limit things to going along with Brotherhood - You know, once we actually get to canon.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

**Kamaitachi Chronicles**

By: Aviantei

Part One: Sixteen

One

* * *

I opened up the hood of the tractor that the farmer had pointed me to and surveyed the damage. The problem wasn't too bad—just a cracked gear—but it was in such as position as to be considered a pain by most mechanics. But I wasn't most mechanics. Hell, I wasn't even a mechanic.

I was an alchemist.

I closed the hood and pulled a worn down piece of chalk from my pocket before starting to draw on it. My intention was to have a transmutation circle as so I could perform alchemy. Alchemy was a combination of art and science in which someone understood, deconstructed, and reconstructed the structure of a material. Sure, there were other rules, but the potential possibilities were almost endless.

With my circle done, I returned the chalk to its place. Closing my eyes, I inhaled, clapped my hands together, and slammed them onto the metal surface. The result was a low _tong_ sound that was almost drowned out by the sparking noise coming from the transmutation. I opened my eyes just in time to see the accompanying flashes of light fade away.

Raising the hood again, I found everything in perfect condition. Mechanical alchemy wasn't the most exciting profession an alchemist could get, mainly since more people leaned toward the scientist end of the spectrum. Though the nature of experiments varied, alchemy could be used in almost anything to further along tests and such. For me, a sixteen-year-old girl with no home or parents, I was more than willing to use alchemy in assorted odd-jobs with the end result of money for the many means of survival.

That was life before he found me.

"Alchemy," a voice behind me whispered, causing my instincts to react and my body to stiffen. The voice that had spoken was not the one of the farmer who had employed me to fix the tractor. It was in a different tone and far too smooth to be the same person. I whirled around, mentally calculating how to defend myself if the person was unfriendly. Living on my own and traveling had given me a few aces up my sleeves.

Though I had been ready for almost anything, there was no way you could have made me suspect this. The uniform of the Amestrian military wasn't something I was completely familiar with, but I was at least able to recognize it on sight, the key give-away being the questionably dark blue material it was comprised of. The man wearing said uniform had short black hair that stopped over his just as dark eyes. He had a self-satisfied smile on his face, like he had just discovered something incredible. Sure, a teenage girl out in some rural eastern town performing practiced alchemy on a tractor was odd—but incredible? Please.

I realized two things at once. One: This man was good-looking; and two: I was staring. I pulled my eyes away from his face and found myself refocusing on the lapel on his chest. Whoever the hell this guy was, he was a ranking officer.

_So what the hell is he doing out here?_

"Do you _want_ something?" I asked, my voice touching on the edges of a growl. I had things to do, and if he was just planning on standing there all day, he had another thing coming. Over the years, my personality had begun to develop in such a way that I got easily pissed off by certain people. Seemed he was one of them.

"I'm not sure yet," the officer mused, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a glove, which he proceeded to put on. "Let's find out."

I had been expecting him to give a more half-assed excuse instead of take action, which was admittedly a mistake on my part. He snapped his fingers, and I blinked as the resultant jet of flame headed straight towards me. I turned in a half circle on one foot before pushing off, using the extra force from the spin to assist in my dodge. The flame shot past my face and simply dissipated into the air a few feet away from the tractor. The man smiled and raised his hand to snap again…

And I saw it.

I dodged his second assault, the logical gears of my brain turning. He had a fucking _transmutation circle_ on his glove, which allowed me to make sense of his attack. Of course, the situation was still bad. I was under fire (pun definitely not intended…) from a ranked officer who just _had_ to also be a State Alchemist. Wonderful.

Then again, I could even the playing field. Reaching into my left pocket, I pulled out the palm-sized metal capsule that resided there. Without hesitation, I flicked it into the air, recapturing it in my right hand and activating the transmutation circle etched into its surface. The result was a four-foot long scythe. The flames were his alchemy. This was mine.

Dodging once again, I charged, the blades on my weapon glinting in the afternoon sun. My opponent attempted to dodge the swing, gloved hand coming up once again, but I was too fast for him.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" I snarled, the lowest of the blades happily hovering at the back of his neck.

"Now, now, put the scythe down," he said, voice soothing and persuasive. He probably could have gotten me to do it, too, had I not been so completely pissed off.

"Not a chance. You talk first. And for the record, take off that damn glove."

He let out a low chuckle, trying my patience even further. The first consideration I had was the mental imagery of the decapitation that could so easily occur. "So you figured it out after two attacks, huh?" he commented, complying with my demand. I surprisingly noted his lack of resistance.

But, yes, of course I had figured it out. It was a slightly advanced version of your basic alchemic theory. He snapped, the gloved sparked, the transmutation circle adjusted the oxygen levels in the air, and there's the flame.

"That's impressive. Really. Here you go." He held out the glove to me, and I snatched it away, stowing it in my own pocket. "Am I allowed to move now?" he asked.

"Sure, sure, if you feel like having three blades of finely tuned steel make their way through the oh-so delicate flesh concentration that is your neck." I was allowed to flaunt my sarcastic and slightly morbid nature. After all, _I_ was running this game, _not_ him. Right?

"It seems you have wit, too."

"Trust me, buddy. Just because you're complimenting me, doesn't guarantee me not accidentally spilling your blood. Please answer the fucking question." Damn, this man was flat out _infuriating_.

"Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, nice to meet you," he introduced with a smile worthy of a politician about to win some election (I know Amestris wasn't a democracy back then, but the analogy is quite understandable anyhow). _"Nice to meet you"?_ This man's life was in danger, and he was wasting time on pleasantries. I decided he wasn't mentally stable.

"Is there a particular reason you chose to attack me? By the way, this better be good," I threatened, bringing the blade closer to his skin. I saw him partially flinch and smiled in satisfaction. Check.

"You're an alchemist," he started, the obviousness making me internally sigh. "I had this feeling you were more skilled than most. It seems I was right." His eyes flicked to the scythe's handle, and I almost expected him to incline his head back towards it, too. Then again, that was only because I gave him too little credit… and I would have enjoyed watching him screw up. "With your level of skill, you could do so much more. What are you doing just handling simple repairs?"

It vaguely crossed my thoughts that he was crossing my biggest line, that he was prying into my past where no one was ever allowed, and _that_ was reason enough for me to do away with him right there. However, the brain has this bad habit where it says things before the mouth has a chance to stop it. Thus was my case at the moment.

"I have to support myself. We don't all have cushy government jobs like you, _Lt. Colonel_." I nearly spat his title. My calm was quickly abandoning me. "Besides, how could you understand? You're just a dog of the goddamn military. Alchemists are supposed to work for the people, and I intend to follow that, unlike you, even if it means I have to scramble every day for a roof over my head at night."

I was actually surprised that I hadn't hurt him in the slightest. I had worked hard to keep myself alive all these years, and I had done it in a way that served the people. That was my Equivalent Exchange. And he was everything I hated, an asshole of a man that wasn't even a proper alchemist. He was a person that had just given himself up into the ranks, and was taking advantage of his position for himself. In my eyes, he deserved to die.

"We're not all dogs," Mustang muttered, breaking me out of my thoughts. I scoffed and tightened my grip on my weapon.

"Yeah, I bet. That especially applies to you, doesn't it? Or even better, you're the only exception."

"I'm definitely not the only one. But I'm not a dog, either. I just so happen to play the part. That's the only real way to get by in this world."

He had to be kidding. There was no way a man like him could ever possibly "play the part". He was just far too opinionated and sarcastic to ever get away with that. There was no way a man like him could seriously swallow his pride and become completely loyal to this country while still working towards some other goal in the background.

_Could he?_

"I'm actually impressed by your amount of skill," Mustang commented, making a "huh?" escape from my mouth. I really needed to stop getting deep thought around this man. It was dangerous. "Your weapon is extremely fine-tuned, too. Judging by the design, I'm assuming you designed it yourself. Just how old are you?" He finished with the same friendly smile. I frowned.

I _still_ had no idea as to what he was getting at, and it was really pissing me off. I took a few moments to regain my composure. "Don't you know you're not supposed to ask a woman her age? Besides, didn't we already have the discussion on compliments?" There, I felt more in control for the moment.

"Have you ever considered becoming a State Alchemist?" To answer, no, I hadn't. But that still didn't change the fact that I was even more lost than before.

"Let me get this straight. You see me perform alchemy, you attack me based on a _feeling_ , and then you ask me if I want to become a Dog. Do you recruit all of your potential victims this way, or am I just special?" He smirked, and I almost wanted to punch him, _forget_ the scythe and all the horrific things I could do with it. Eh, that could come _after_ he stopped that look.

"Oh, trust me; you're special."

As a note, you can only be so far away from someone while holding a scythe to the back of their neck. Consequently, there were only a few inches between where he was looking down at me and I was looking up at him.

_What in the world am I doing?_

"Ivy?"

I was confused for a moment, and then it hit me: I had given him my name. I winced and mentally cursed my own stupidity.

"Do _not_ call me by my first name!" I snapped, reluctantly removing my weapon from the vicinity of his neck. Turning away to hide the light blush now on my face, I tossed my scythe towards my left hand, transmuting it back into capsule form. When I put it back into my pocket, my fingers brushed up against the glove I had taken from him.

"Alright, then, _Caiman_ ," he retried, putting unnecessary emphasis on my surname. "What do you think?"

What did I think? What did I _think?_ Oh, he really didn't want to know what I thought. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep all the profanities from spilling out. When I was sure that opening my mouth wouldn't make me cuss uncontrollably, I took a few deep breaths, letting each one out as slowly as possible. Finally calmed, I turned to face him.

"I was thinking, _Lt. Colonel_ , that I wasn't aware that they were letting sixteen-year-old girls apply for military positions." I had stopped caring about how much he knew about me. After all, the application process for becoming a State Alchemist surely was going to involve a background check, and I could very easily imagine him sticking his nose into it all in "professional interest." I liked the option of me telling him so I could keep tabs on what he knew a lot better.

"They do if one has enough talent. And I'm pretty sure your new connections will make it simpler, don't you? Besides, I seriously doubt they would pass up having someone with your skill set on their side."

I knew he was serious. Our country was a very militant one, and I had no doubt if war broke out I could be sent to the frontlines. There was no excitement in the fact that I was trying to become a Dog, but I could find some way to accept it. There had to be something I could do that would count as working for the people…

Decision made, I turned around and started walking.

"Hey, Caiman, where are you going?" Mustang asked as I walked right past him. I chuckled.

"The train station's this way, Lt. Colonel," I pointed out. "Unless… You were planning on walking to Central?"

In my mind, his face lost its casual expression, taking on a more disgruntled one. I resisted the urge to chuckle again. "Right… But what about my glove? If something—"

"Whatever happens, I've already proven that I can handle it faster than you. Besides…" I stopped walking for a moment to flash a smile over my shoulder. "You have a second glove, don't you?"

He blinked once and then smiled. I continued walking as the sounds of his footsteps and light laughter followed.

"You're a miracle, Caiman, an absolute miracle."


	2. Two

**Kamaitachi Chronicles**

By: Aviantei

Two

* * *

I shifted in my seat, running my hands over the red couch's leather surface. The fact of the matter was after a few days of travel via train, we had finally arrived in East City, and Mustang had oh-so graciously shoved me in the vague direction of his office before running off and saying something about having to check back in to the building since unexpected interruptions (i.e., me) had made him a day late from when he should have returned. Fortunately for me, it was very early in the morning which meant I didn't have too many questioning eyes on me as I fumbled around the halls of Eastern Command.

My savior had been a short man (shorter than me, which I found really weird. It's not like I was tiny, but just the fact that he was older than I was, and the combination seemed very off set…) who appeared to be in his really early twenties with short black hair and large glasses. When I finally stumbled out that I was looking for Lt. Colonel Mustang's office and that I had been redirected to him for some other issue (there was no way I was saying he had told me to go to his office, since that would have seemed really weird), he had said no problem at all. In fact, he even worked for the guy, and was kind enough to warn me his boss might not even be there in the first place. I refrained from mentioning that I knew he would show up eventually and simply followed my escort past more than a few places I had passed in my earlier confusion. The man then introduced himself as Master Sergeant Kain Furey.

Luckily for me, the main work area was abandoned when we got there, and Kain pointed towards one of the doors, telling me it was Mustang's office and I could wait in there if I wanted. So I had opened the door to the room, surveyed its contents, and slumped down on one of the two couches, making myself comfortable. I felt really sorry for Kain. He was such a nice guy, and yet he had to work for the biggest ass (even two days on a train hadn't changed that in my opinion of Mustang, and just might have made it worse…) in Amestris. Then again, it was probably because Kain was so nice that he had been roped into this job in the first place. You had to be a really patient person to handle someone like _him_.

A half-hour had passed since I had taken a spot on the couch, and I had to admit that I was really comfy. I was getting to the point where I could have fallen asleep if I wanted to, since the train schedule we had been forced to embark on was really irregular. I was way out of my league in that aspect seeing as with my usual life style I would simply wake up and travel as I chose. The only thing keeping me from dozing off was my pure willpower to not be caught in a vulnerable position by Mustang.

After a few minutes of trying to count all the papers that were piled up on the desk in the room (I stopped at 598 because I couldn't take it anymore), the door opened behind me and I turned to look at it. When I noted the person standing there wasn't Mustang, I recoiled back into the couch's armrest, trying to act like I wasn't there. However, the man's face broke out into a wide grin, and I actually started to note his appearance.

Of course, it was another military man, in all his blue-uniformed glory. His hair was also black, except slicked back away from his face with one piece sticking up into the hair. He wore rectangular glasses, and olive green rested behind the lenses. He was striding towards me, hand reaching into his jacket's breast pocket.

"Well, hello, there!" he practically shouted. "I'm First Lieutenant Maes Hughes and this—" a picture was shoved into my face, and I could vaguely make out a smiling dirty blond woman with green eyes and a slightly rounded stomach "—is my wife Gracia! As you can see, she's pregnant right now. Isn't she just incredible? Pretty soon, we're going to have a child. You just now with a mother like that the kid's gonna be perfect. I mean—"

"I'm sorry," I managed to squeeze into the conversation, if you could call it that, "but who the hell are you?"

He looked at me, still gushing over his picture. "I did say so, right?" he asked. "First Lieutenant Maes Hughes, at your service, but you can call me Maes. And you are?"

Something told me I should make up for my rudeness, and I stood up. "My name's Ivy Caiman; it's nice to meet you," I introduced, extending my hand. Maes took it and shook my entire arm vigorously (it took me a while until I could feel it again after that...). I then decided that I would get things over with by answering the obvious question. "Um, I'm here to see the Lt. Colonel. Would you happen to know where he is?"

"Nope, don't have a clue. I thought he might be back by now, but I guess not…" Maes said, making me sigh. "But how bout this? You tell me what you're here for, and I'll see if I can help. Hopefully by the time he gets here you'll be almost done and then you can out of this dreary place. So, what do you need?"

I nodded, even though I figured with Mustang's tendencies, I'd be stuck here until he left. The thought depressed me, so I didn't put it into words. "I'm supposed to be signing up to become a State Alchemist. Do you know if he has the papers for that here or will we have to go somewhere else…?" I looked back to the desk and realized that even if he _did_ have it we'd probably have to go someplace else anyway.

"Hm, I'm not sure. We can look around for a while and if we don't find it I can get them from the main office," Maes assured, walking over to the desk. "No offense, but I'm used to seeing people your age trying for this position. You still look pretty young; how old are you?"

I realized that Maes was another one of those really nice people, which explained why he could put up with Mustang. Therefore, part of me would have felt bad for lying to him.

"Sixteen."

 _Click_ , the door opened, and this time it actually _was_ Mustang. He looked at the two of us, no real surprise in his expression. I could only guess that Maes showing up in his office was normal.

"Roy! Explain to me why you have a teenage girl inside your office!"

I damned my conscience.

"Mustang has a teenage girl in his office?" another voice shouted, and its owner rushed to lean in the doorway. This time it was a woman with short blond hair roughly about the same length as mine and a piece popping out of her bangs like Maes's. Also like Maes she wore glasses, except hers were oval shaped, and the eyes behind them were light blue. She had a devious grin on her face like she had just won the troublemaker's jackpot.

I _fucked_ my conscience.

"Alright you two, knock it off," Mustang scolded, smacking the woman in the head with a manila folder he held in his hands, resulting in a protested "hey!" from her. "Caiman is here because she's enlisted my help in becoming a State Alchemist. Now behave or get out."

The woman totally ignored him and instead strolled over to me. "So we're going by last names, huh? Caiman, I'm Rito," she declared, one hand held out to shake, the other in a fist with the thumb pointing at herself.

"Uh huh…" I weakly stated, sacrificing my hand to hers. She shook it only once in a welcome change from Maes's earlier assault.

"Don't listen to her. She's… weird," Mustang interjected, walking past her to the paper covered desk. The woman I would now be referring to as Rito stuck out her tongue at his back before pointing at him.

"I'm watching you…" she warned. Then she spun around on the floor, the attached skirt of the military uniform unfurling in the air in a wave of basic blue. As Rito exited the office, I heard her shout something that sounded like "Hey! Jean!" and I fell back onto the couch, trying to sink into its cushions and disappear. Color erupted on my face—I hadn't even done anything yet and I was _already_ an office rumor. _Fuck._

"Hughes, why are you here in the first place?" Mustang asked of his fellow officer, graciously ignoring my condition. I wondered if the couch would eat me; they ate everything else.

"Why I'm here to save little Ivy from the evil clutches of Overlord Mustang, of course!" Maes answered, ruffling my hair. My fingers went to straighten out the short brown strands when he was done, my face heated up even more. _Little?_

"Hughes…" Mustang growled.

"Oh, come on, Roy, I was just seeing if you were back yet," Maes defended. "After all, you have a bunch of paperwork that's piled up over the week you were gone, and that extra day you were gone mucked up the works even more. Riza wasn't very happy with you, by the way. I can't blame her, either. 'I have a feeling,' you said. What kind of excuse is that? I mean really…"

_Riza?_

" _Hughes…_ "

"Right, right, Gracia wants to know if you'd like to come over to dinner sometime soon. Besides, she and Hanna have been teaming up in the kitchen while you were gone, and you have got to try some of the stuff those two can whip up. Of course nothing less should be expected of my wife~!"

_Hanna?_

"Fine, fine, Hughes, I'll come over sometime, now if you don't _mind_ …"

"Alright, we'll talk about this later! I know, we can do this at lunch. I'll see you both then!" And with that, Maes exited the room and closed the door. My stomach dropped because I realized I had just lost my buffer from being alone with Mustang.

_Besides, just how many girls is this guy seeing?_

Said guy brought his hand up to his face and sighed heavily. "I really don't know how to handle him sometimes. Just says whatever comes to his head." His hand dropped and Mustang looked at the desk before picking up a pen and putting it with the folder he was still holding. Then he walked over to the other couch across from the one where I was sitting, and I felt suddenly grateful for the small coffee table I had paid no attention to earlier. "Glad to see you made it here okay," he said, finally addressing me. "I thought that you might've gotten lost on your way."

My anger flared and I sat up, my hand making a _twack!_ against the couch. "Did _you_ get lost? Do you have any idea how long I've been _sitting_ here, you ass?"

"Sorry, sorry," he off-handedly said, opening the folder and scanning its contents. "Full name."

"What?"

Mustang looked up from the papers inside. "This is your State Alchemist application. Obviously it needs to be filled out beforehand. Full name."

"I can fill this thing out myself!" I objected. "Besides, don't you have work to do?" I indicated the piles of paper on his desk.

"Part of my job is recruiting new State Alchemists. Hence, I am doing work. That, and the deadline for the next exam is fast approaching, so this is priority. Besides, since I am recommending you to the state, it would be advantageous for me to fully know about you, correct? Full name."

I fumed for a few moments, staring into his unwavering eyes. He had a decent argument (using the "professional interest" card I had _so_ seen coming), and I didn't have the patience to argue with him right now. Besides, that would just increase the amount of time I spent in his uninterrupted company, which I definitely didn't have the tolerance for. I sighed, and he smirked.

"Ivrena Karellen Caiman," I stated. I added the spelling of my middle name as an afterthought, simply because it was unusual, and Mustang's pen made its way across the paper.

"Date of birth."

"July 14, 1894."

"Gender: female, obviously… Height."

"Five foot four."

"Weight."

"124 pounds."

"Hair, eyes: brown. Phone number: eh, I'll use mine for that."

"Huh?" I blinked. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? He better not be, because I could see bloody murder happening in the first twenty-four hours of that happening.

"Address: I'll use mine for that, too…" Yup, that's what he was saying. I decided to verbally confirm my suspicion in the hopes that I was wrong.

"Hey, are you saying I'll be staying with _you_?" I incredulously asked.

"Of course, where else would you stay?"

"Oh, gee, I don't know. Maybe a _hotel_ or something? Besides, I'm applying for a military position. Surely I can stay in the barracks, right?" The argument was quickly constructed. I waited for him to shoot some holes in it.

"Staying in the barracks would require you to have previously held a military position. My place is much nicer, and, besides, it's in pen. Let's see…" Holes successfully shot.

I continued glaring at him as his dark eyes scanned over the paper in front of him. A small growl played at the back of my throat, and I said the only thing that I felt belonged in this situation.

"Fuck you."


	3. Three

**Kamaitachi Chronicles**

By: Aviantei

Three

* * *

And so, only two days later, I sat on yet another couch, though this one was nowhere near as nice as the ones in Mustang’s office. It was older, apparent by the tattered material of a faded hue I assumed to have been a dark military blue initially, complete with thinned fabric and scratches on the wooden legs. I really questioned why anyone would use such a thing in a public hallway (which is where I was now), but had to admit it was at least comfy, and almost sleep worthy. I guess you just didn’t ditch a couch that served its purpose.

The whole “sleep” idea didn’t sound too bad, considering I had been shaken awake in the still dark hours of the morning, told to get ready, and we’d be leaving as soon as possible. The person responsible for that had of course been Mustang, and the bed I had woken up in had been his; though before you get any wrong ideas, he had slept on the couch. I had groggily done what he said, and had been consequently been shoved on a train headed for Central. The train itself arrived early the next morning, so I had been woken up in the dark again, just before I was dragged into Central command, down some halls, and to this very couch.

Despite my tiredness, I refused to sleep anyway, since I didn’t want to show any form of weakness in front of the ass (going to sleep on the train with him across from me had been hard enough), so I amused myself otherwise. It was a pretty hard thing to do, with the hallway being extremely bleak in its white walls and plain tiled floor. There was also a notable lack of doors, other than the one the couch was parked next to, so people watching was very limited. I tried counting tiles, only to get fed up like with the paper’s in Mustang’s office, and did my very best to ignore the fact that every now and then the ass was taking glances at me out of the corner of his eye. When I started imagining torture methods I could use on him, I figured it was a good time to demand some information.

“Lt. Colonel, what the hell are we doing here?” I asked, not making eye contact other than to throw a nasty look in his direction. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a yawn. I smirked. It served him right that he was tired, too, after dragging me around without so much as an explanation. I drummed my fingers against the couch’s armrest, producing muffled sounds, to show my irritation.

Mustang sighed like he was explaining something obvious; I wanted to strangle him. He must’ve felt the daggers I was glaring at him, because his tone reflected none of the pre-described superiority. He turned to face me, and I resumed my former practice of staring off in the other direction. “We are here so I can submit your application for the State Alchemist exam.” My eyebrows raised, and he answered the question the motion asked. “I couldn’t simply mail it in, because the deadline was a few days ago. So I’m here to pull some strings. It needed to be done in person, seeing as the test’s only in five days.”

I was going to kill him. Or maybe just punch him. It would only be once, but it would be very, _very_ , hard. After he was unconscious I would drag him to some back alley, and dissect him. I vaguely wondered if there was a Black Market set-up in Central, and exactly how well they paid for the meat of dead military officers. If it came to that, I would run off, change my looks with Alchemy (hair dying was an easy concept), and go back to the way my life was before this. Just as I pulled back my fist to send it into the ass’s face, there was a small _click_ as the door now at my back opened.

I dismissed my earlier thoughts. Instead, I turned to focus on the next military man to quickly shift in and out of my practical mental menagerie of them. He was close to Mustang’s height, with brown hair and an actually decent smile on his face, even if there were more than a few wrinkles in the mix. Mustang stood up, immediately shaking hands with the newcomer.

“It’s certainly been a while, Mustang,” the officer in question said. Before the small talk could even advance, I had both of their gazes on me. Feeling at a disadvantage, I stood up. It wasn’t anywhere enough to put me on the same eye level as them, but it was better than being below that. “Now then, I assume this is the entrant you wanted to discuss.”

I made myself speak the instance Mustang’s lips twitched. “Ivy Caiman,” I introduced, offering my own hand to for a shake. Within seconds, my hand was enveloped by one much larger than mine, callouses scraping my skin. Maybe because he had come from an office, I had assumed that he wasn’t from the battlefield, but I could almost feel it in his grip. And while I didn’t quite know what all the decorations on his chest stood for, I knew you didn’t get those pushing papers. “Nice to meet you.”

“Major General Eli Rosomak, the Metamorphic Alchemist,” the man provided, letting go of my hand. I pressed my palm against my pants, trying to erase any evidence that I was nervous. I could see Mustang smirking out of the corner of my eye and resolved to kick him for it later. But what was I supposed to do? Unlike Mustang, who gave off the impression of a slacker, the man in front of me not only had rank, but prestige.

I made sure to remove any trace of stutter before I attempted to speak. I barely had my mouth open before my mouth was utterly dry. “When you say Rosomak,” I ventured, “you don’t mean the Rosomak that’s at the head of alchemical research in the country, do you?”

I’d admit that I didn’t know much. But the name had been involved in more than the fair share of modern alchemical research materials I had read, without a doubt. Most of the research was in creating more efficient circles for transmutations—though the focus was on condensing more complex formulas for more practical use than anything else.

Which had been the basis for my ideas when I had started out trying to make headways in my own alchemy.

“Well look at that,” Mustang added, finally getting a word in. I was too stunned to intervene in any way. “It seems like we’re off to a good start then. So, as you can guess—”

“There’s no need to guess; I know,” Rosomak cut Mustang off. Ah, so the ass’s attempt at trying to earn a favorable outcome in the conversation was as obvious as I had thought it had been. “You already said as much in your phone call, so just save it. Now I need to know why it’s so vital that we get this girl in the exams now as opposed to anytime in the future.”

Rosomak’s eyes were a dark blue, and they locked onto me before I could even think. I had to resist the urge to swallow, but my heartbeat wouldn’t let up. He was observing me, probably seeing things I couldn’t imagine. I took a deep breath, hoping oxygen would be enough to help me relax.

“You don’t really want to become a State Alchemist, do you?”

Without meaning to, my eyes flicked to Mustang. Our gazes met up. I didn’t know what I had been expecting, but his pure black eyes widened a bit. It wasn’t an expression I had seen him make before, but it would have felt better if I had intentionally caused it.

But Mustang wasn’t the person I had been talking to. And Rosomak was still looking at me.

“Okay, listen, I just don’t know,” I admitted. I chose to ignore Mustang from here on out. How he reacted to my change in attitude wasn’t my concern. “I think there’s a chance I can do something—you know, _be thou for the people_ and all that. I just don’t know exactly what it is. But if I wander around all day, I don’t have anything that I can claim to be done as good, either. I mean, little things are fine and all, but what if I want to _do_ something—I don’t know, something more!”

I was suddenly grateful for the awkward architecture. This early in the morning, shouting would have just brought a crowd. The almost doorless stretch of walls made that scenario’s probability decrease greatly.

I eased my nails out of the palms of my hands. Rosomak had a soothing smile on his face that made me think that that must be what grandfathers were like.

Mustang’s hand descended to lightly land on my shoulder. I tensed up instantly but couldn’t think of a good way to shove him off. “And there you have it,” he said, like my outburst explained everything. I didn’t exactly feel good about my character being judged on a pile of random words I had said without thinking. “Of course, if you can’t manage it, I understand, but I’d really appreciate it if you could at least get her application in to the works, Major General.”

I let out a small puff of air, blowing a strand of hair away from my face. Really, his verbal attempts at flattery were so obvious I wondered how people didn’t notice them.

Rosomak’s neutral expression didn’t even twitch. Maybe it was something that came with age? I wouldn’t really know until I got into that age bracket myself, though. “Not so fast, Mustang,” he chided, “how am I supposed to make an exception without seeing her alchemy first?”

My hand instantly went to my pocket, feeling over the metal of my capsule. Normally touching it would have comforted me, but not so much anymore. While I had been proud of it when I first designed the thing, comparing it to anything Rosomak had done—now that was just embarrassing. If he was the standard, I should really just go back to wandering around all over again.

_Well, I’m not going to get anywhere being a pansy._ I tightened my grip, shrugging Mustang off to get some space. It took some effort to keep my shoulders square, and I didn’t turn around to face them until I had taken a few deep breaths. I could handle Mustang no problem, and the ass was watching with that smirk on his face, arms crossed. Rosomak was the problem, even though there had been no notable change to his expression since I had stepped up.

_Just focus on the transmutation._

I flicked my capsule into the air, and caught it in the opposite hand. There was the familiar flash, and then the weight of my scythe was in my hand. I considered going for an attack move, but that would probably just be unnecessarily flashy. Not sure what else I was supposed to do, I waited, and Rosomak stepped forward, holding out his hand.

“If you don’t mind,” he requested. Of course, it’s not like saying no was probably a real option, but I certainly felt it. My scythe was my one safe point, and he was pretty much taking it away from me. Trying not to show my hesitation, I handed it over, watching as Rosomak weighed it between his hands. “Certainly an interesting weapon of choice.” He rolled it over, exposing the transmutation circle on the handle. “Well, this is certainly nostalgic. From _Redistribution of Component Balance_ , yes?”

“Yes, sir!” While not an exact replica, I had modified the transmutation circle out of one of Rosomak’s books, trying to enhance the theory. I hadn’t gotten too far, but it let me make a move quicker if I needed to.

“An interesting development,” he allowed, and I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. Without so much as a twirl, he clapped both of his hands together, the scythe’s handle in the middle. The weapon reverted back to its capsule form flawlessly. “Ah, this is a bit heavy, don’t you think? Definitely not something easy to carry around.”

I grimaced a bit. The weight had been an issue at first, but I had gotten used to it. “I couldn’t adjust the density material without weakening the weapon overall,” I said. “No weapon is perfect. At least mine gives me the element of surprise.”

“I wonder…” Rosomak looked over the circle again, then performed another transmutation, reforming my scythe. He handed the weapon over, and I clutched onto it so hard I could feel the strain in my knuckles. “Well, I don’t have time to be investigating every odd and end, now do I? I’d like to see how you revert it, please.”

I nodded, my mouth too dry to say anything. I had tried my best not to pay attention to him, but Mustang was still watching, his smirk dropped a bit. I couldn’t even say it served him right. Was I really doing that bad? Trying to get some confidence back, I slapped my hand down onto the handle, spinning the blade until my palm smacked up against the circle.

Transmutation complete, I stayed clutching onto my capsule. Now that Rosomak had mentioned it, I could remember how heavy the condensed metal was. It was more than pitiful. Rosomak, finished observing, turned to Mustang. “She certainly has interesting ideas,” he commented. _Hey, I’m standing right here._ “Though I’m curious as to why you would drag her all this way. She needs refinement.”

“She’s got good combat instincts,” Mustang added, and I remembered with a swell of pride. “She was able to corner me pretty quickly, though I let her win that one.”

“Excuse you?!” Forget decorum; I stormed forward, capsule ready in my palm. I wasn’t about to start a fight with a military officer in the middle of a government building, but I couldn’t just let that slide. “You _let_ me win? Who the hell said you could do that!”

“Easy, Caiman—”

I shoved my face towards his, even though that required getting on my tiptoes to even get close. “I will _not_ take it easy,” I growled, enjoying the rumble across my chest. “No one asked for your pity; you should have just let me alone if you were going to play with me, you massive—!”

There was a clap, but it wasn’t Mustang—I had been on alert for the snap, but he wasn’t even wearing his gloves. Turning my head, I saw Rosomak with his hands pressed together, though there wasn’t a transmutation circle in sight. Clicking my tongue, I turned away from Mustang, putting some distance between us.

_But really, how did you think you stood a chance against a State Alchemist? You’re just a little girl._

_Fuck off._

“Normally I’d deny this request,” Rosomak said, talking to both of us. I could feel the heat in my face; I had to look like a complete idiot by now. “She’s young, and she’s volatile. But as we discussed, there’s special circumstances, and I don’t see what else to do about it.” I kept my mouth shut on that one, even if I wanted to demand answers. No need to make a bigger fool of myself. “Besides, she has an interesting potential. As long as you would be the one watching over her, Mustang, I see no reason not to let her try.”

“Thank you very much, Major General,” Mustang said with a smile. I had no choice but to echo his words.


	4. Four

**Kamaitachi Chronicles**

By: Aviantei

Four

* * *

Assuming that I got into the State Alchemist Exam, we still had to wait to the end of the week for testing to start. After exchanging promises of follow up with Rosomak, Mustang got us checked in at a nearby military hotel. It was focused on providing housing to traveling officers, so the décor was rather Spartan, but my traveling lifestyle had led to me staying in far cheaper lodgings. There were even two beds, so I wasn’t about to complain.

There were plenty of other things I _did_ want to complain about, but I couldn’t decide which one to go with first.

I plopped my suitcase onto the bed closest to the bathroom, claiming it as my own. Mustang went about pulling out some documents as he settled down at the desk. I glared at his back. “I’m surprised that you even bothered to bring work with you,” I said.

Mustang glanced over to me with a shrug. “As much as taking care of you does count as part of my job, I do have other obligations,” he said. I squinted at the papers, but couldn’t make out the words. “Let me make sure there’s nothing too pressing in here, then I can show you around Central.”

I dropped onto the mattress and kicked at the ground. Both the carpet and the comforter were the same green as the Amestrian flag, just missing the silver lion blazoned on them. Thank goodness nationalism had its limits.

I hadn’t, for all the cities I had seen before, ever made it towards Central. Most people who wanted alchemy help weren’t hurting for it in the capital, given the military base. The sheer expanse of the place could make it tricky to navigate, but I’d be fine if I got a map in my hands. “A tour isn’t really necessary.”

Mustang’s paperwork rustled as he put it down and turned back to me. I rolled over and stared at the brown wall. “Caiman, you don’t need to be upset,” Mustang said. I wanted him to shut up. The one thing worse than an ass was a patronizing ass. “There’s nothing wrong with the fight you put up against me. I wanted to get a grasp on your ability, and I did. You wouldn’t be here right now if you weren’t impressive.”

“I didn’t _ask_ , Lt. Colonel.” I pushed myself back up, fists pressing into the mattress. “If you’re so certain that you can beat me, why don’t we have another fight?”

“And risk injuring you before you even get the chance to test? No thanks.” Mustang’s uninterested gaze swiveled back to his paperwork. He thought injury was the outcome? Oh, he wouldn’t be the first person I gave injuries. “Just give me a few minutes, Caiman, then we can go for a walk and you can let off some steam.”

“Last I checked, you were the dog here, not me.”

“Funny, because you seem to be doing an awful lot of barking.” That was it. I hopped to my feet, grasping for my capsule, just as Mustang stood, chair dragging rivulets into the carpet. He tossed his paperwork into a scattered mess across the desk and pulled his jacket on. “Let’s not keep you cooped up in here all day. Come on.”

Without so much as waiting for a reply, Mustang strode to the door. I gritted my teeth. I could make my way around the city on my own if I had a little guidance. It didn’t need to be him. But he was, as much as I hated to admit it, my patron into the exam. If nothing else, I couldn’t back out of that. Not when it was a chance to _prove_ I had more than enough talent to smash his face into the ground.

Clenching my capsule one last time, I followed Mustang into the streets of Central.

* * *

Even though it wasn’t my first time in a major city, Central was beyond the real deal. With the Fuhrer’s mansion and military headquarters looming over the rest of the city from its center, the streets spanned out in an array reaching far out before breaking into the countryside. Stone roads cut straight paths to every end of the city, and most buildings were painted in light colors, bringing light into even the shaded corners and alleys.

Thriving businesses, crowded streets, and not many signs of homelessness. Either the capital was just that well off or they were very good at hiding its darker parts.

Mustang very well could have taken a military vehicle, but he insisted on traveling by foot. It was easier to absorb everything I needed to get around that way, so I had no complaints. While still near our hotel, other military officers stopped Mustang for greetings, and farther off civilians recognized his uniform and thanked him for his service. Women blushed at his presence, and some even flirted with him. I wondered what the mystery Riza and Hanna would say about the transgressions or if Mustang’s behavior was the norm for them.

In civilian clothes, it was much easier for me to blend into the background for those conversations, though Mustang didn’t linger for long. He did seem insistent on showing me most of the major areas in the city, though Central didn’t have much in the way of sights to see. By the time we’d stopped at one of the several libraries the city had to offer, it didn’t take much to figure out his plan.

“You really don’t have anything better to show me?” I asked, looking around, the area burning itself into my memory. The library stood taller than most government offices in other cities, complete with columns, several meters worth of stairs, and even guardian lions perched by the entrance, all in pure white stone. The surrounding buildings seemed to consist of a number of offices, though most people walked past them. Streets bearing the names of fallen officers were available in every direction. “If this is what you’ve got, then you’d be better off heading back to the hotel and getting that paperwork of yours out of the way. I can handle just fine on my own.”

“Is that so?” Mustang asked, hands in his pockets. He looked up to the library before us, craning his neck to the top. “This is one of the biggest alchemical knowledge bases in Amestris. Beyond just your capability for alchemy, I figured it might pique your academic interests. There’s plenty to study, after all.”

“Study what, exactly?” True, there was an unprecedented knowledge source in front of me. But did I want the burden of carrying all that information with me? Was that what I wanted to use my mental energy on? What else was it good for? I brushed my bangs out of my face. “Are you worried about me failing the exam? I may have some practical limitations, but you don’t have to worry about my book knowledge.”

Mustang hummed in contemplation, but his face spoke of just concealed amusement. “While I don’t doubt your skill, the exam does take place in both a written and practical format. You have a week to prepare, and while that’s less than most, I don’t want to hear any complaints if you end up failing, you hear me?”

“Trust me, Lt. Colonel, as great as it would be to bring your judgement into question, I believe I’ll pass. I’d rather not damage my own reputation in the process.”

Mustang chuckled. “And what reputation would that be exactly?”

I crossed my arms and kicked at the cobblestones. “Rumors do spread pretty far. I wouldn’t get much clout as an alchemist if I didn’t at least put a decent showing in for the exam. Potential customers wouldn’t trust someone who didn’t know their basics.” One of the benefits of doing freelance alchemical work was that most people didn’t comprehend the science. However, the State Alchemist exam was one of the few national measures of alchemical talent. If I didn’t do well, I could kiss any business goodbye without the military patronage.

_She needs refinement._

I clicked my tongue and turned back to the library. While Rosomak had given me some words of praise, his recommendation wasn’t glowing. And if the man who had developed the theory I used in my own work said I was lacking, I couldn’t argue. Pulling my capsule from my pocket, I rolled it between my palms. Was it that heavy? I didn’t notice anymore, but—

“Hey, ass, catch.”

I underhand tossed my capsule to Mustang. He blinked but snatched it out of the air, his shoulders sagging a bit. “Yikes, Caiman, Rosomak wasn’t kidding about this thing. What sort of material do you even revert this to?”

I strode forward to snatch the capsule back, and retorted, “Some of us make our own resources instead of just stealing from nature, you know.” I whirled around and started climbing up the steps. “Go back and do your paperwork, Lt. Colonel. I have some formulas I want to work on.”

“What about lunch? You haven’t eaten since the train,” Mustang said. I hadn’t been aware that being my patron also involved being such a goddamn mother hen. “And getting back to the hotel? I know you’re used to staying on your own, but I can’t let you wander around in the middle of the night.”

“I memorized the way back,” I said without turning around. Mustang made disgruntled protests from the street. The doors to the library were made of an impressive oak, their varnish shining in the sunlight, and reached higher than most one story buildings. If I couldn’t find the resources I was looking for here, I would be very much disappointed. “I know how to take care of myself, so why don’t you go do something useful for the country in the meantime?”

Without waiting for a response, I tugged the massive door open and let it swing shut behind me.

* * *

One look at the library’s layout told me everything I needed to know. As the purported largest alchemical knowledge base in Amestris, near every book on the shelves was either about alchemy or related in that it applied to material makeups for conversion comparisons. I knew most metal materials from my research when I had assembled my scythe in the first place, so it wasn’t a problem with my knowledge base.

My difficulties were in the arrays I was using to make the conversions in the first place. I needed to refine that to come even close to improving my technique.

So I gathered up all of Rosomak’s research texts that the library had to offer, which consisted of a rather hefty stack of materials. I had only read _Redistribution of Component Balance_ , which had been published before I was even born. There was a decade and a half of material since then, most which had come from Rosomak’s State Alchemist recertifications. Since alchemy wasn’t the easiest subject to master, it wasn’t easy finding or affording texts when you traveled everywhere like I did.

None of the books had the courtesy to be shelved all together, but my wandering had the added bonus that I found the State Alchemy exam research materials section. While I felt confident I knew most of what I needed to, getting more data wouldn’t hurt.

_Dammit, guess I am taking this seriously._

Rosomak had hit it right on the head: I didn’t want to be a State Alchemist. I could’ve been happy helping out strangers and traveling the country, as I’d done for years. But I hadn’t been lying when I had said I wanted to do something more, if I could. I didn’t quite know how me wielding a weapon that didn’t take half my body strength to lug around in its dormant state factored into that, but it was a step that could get my closer to a position where doing more was a possibility.

If I did well enough to impress Rosomak, maybe he could teach me more.

_Plus, it’ll feel great to show that ass he can’t just underestimate me._

That meant I had two goals: have Rosomak become my teacher—or at least willing to share some of his insight with me—and kick Roy Mustang’s ass as soon as possible.

Both of those meant improving my alchemy and passing the exam. Flipping through the library’s research materials, I confirmed that I had more than enough knowledge to beat out the written exam. I made sure to skim the rest to collect any stray information I might have missed in my own studies, then started on the trickier task of tackling Rosomak’s collective publications.

I didn’t need _Redistribution of Component Balance_ , so I sat that aside with the exam materials. Even with my ability to absorb knowledge, it would still take most of the evening to even skim all the books Rosomak had written during his tenure as a State Alchemist. It seemed to me he spent all his time tucked away in his research lab, configuring new alchemical circles and theories on the dime of the state, unlike Mustang, who ran a unit as a higher up. That almost sounded nice, save the part where I needed fresh air.

_You’re not going to have to figure out what kind of State Alchemist you want to be if you don’t figure out how to make your practical impressive as hell._

So I spent the next several days in the library occupied with a ream of papers, a pencil, and Rosomak’s updated information spinning through my brain. Each day I left with hundreds of alternate alchemy circles scribbled out, none of them as successful as I would have liked. In theory, they looked nice and contained all the right inscriptions to get the catalyst I wanted.

Shape was more in the mind of the user than the chemical conversations, which relied on the circle itself. The weight of my scythe had pressed against my palms too many times to forget, even though I couldn’t. That meant I could focus all my efforts on the conversion.

It wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

No matter what layouts I tried, I couldn’t find one that let me keep all the materials I needed for my scythe to stay as stable as it needed for battle. I recalled Rosomak’s materials again and again, but none of them lined up just right. I needed an original array, but I hesitated to test the results on my actual scythe for risk of losing its components in a foolish transmutation. It had taken me ages to build the thing in the first place; I couldn’t screw it up with my carelessness.

If I hadn’t been so focused on avoiding Mustang, I might have been able to ask for his assistance in procuring experimental materials. I could’ve walked back to Rosomak and straight up admitted I needed help. But with each and every circle I drew, it became more personal, some puzzle I had to crack on my own.

I had gotten so caught up in my routine that it surprised me when Mustang stopped me one morning over breakfast at the hotel and said, “You’re not planning on running off today, are you? At least let me escort you back to HQ to make sure you’re registered alright.”

Sure enough, the morning of the written State Alchemist Exam had arrived.


	5. Five

**Kamaitachi Chronicles**

By: Aviantei

Five

* * *

Mustang watched me eat my breakfast, which was a more disconcerting experience than the actual test I had coming up. I think he expected me to be nervous, but I had more than enough confidence in myself. I had already proven I had all the information I needed and then some for the written exam, and there was a gap of a few days before my practical demonstration. That gave the test givers enough time to weed out anyone who didn’t have enough connections or knowledge to make it through the written exam and speed up the process.

“I know I’ve been avoiding you for a week, but you can stop staring at me,” I said, glowering at Mustang over my forkful of eggs. “It’s creepy.”

Mustang blinked those pure black eyes of his and brushed his hair out of his face. “Well, it is your big day. I figured you’d want some support,” he said, but still tucked back into his own breakfast. The food was bland, but I wouldn’t complain over a hot, free meal. “You don’t seem worried at all, though. Did your studying do you well?”

I scoffed. “I told you, I didn’t need to study.” Studying wasn’t just something you did when every single thing you experienced stuck in your brain, whether you wanted it to or not. I flipped over my toast, dreading the next bite would taste like the cardboard it resembled. At least it wasn’t burnt. I flicked a few crumbs across the table. “I just wanted to avoid you. It was nice while it lasted.”

“Oh, did you see some good sights in Central, then? No wonder you got back so late.” Mustang cut a piece off his sausage link, not even grimacing as he chewed. Military life must’ve gotten him used to the food. If I went through with this, I’d be cooking for myself, no doubt. “Get lost, hm?”

“I _don’t_ get lost,” I said, before taking a steadying breath through my nose. Sure, he was a jerk. Sure, I could complain about him all damn day if it pleased me. But I couldn’t show him up if my temper overcame me. The written exam was nothing, but I was still on a deadline to make my practical impressive. Fine, make it personal and he’d shut up. “I’m sure your subordinates would have a grand time finding out you have such an interest in a girl about a decade younger than you.”

To my displeasure, Mustang just chuckled. I frowned into my coffee cup, the one good thing about the entire flavorless breakfast. “Oh, trust me, Rito’s not done harping on that yet,” he said. I refused to look at his smirk. “Just wait until we get back. She’ll have a field day pestering you.”

I sighed. “I’m sure you won’t be exempt from that, either.” Mustang shrugged. “You say ‘we,’ though, like I’m going to be coming back with you without question. What makes you so sure I won’t just bail on you the second I get my certification?”

“Well, I am your patron, for starters.” State Alchemists got decent salaries, though, even at entry level. It was a weak argument. “It wouldn’t be too much of a big deal, but the fact is you’re underage. That comes with some limitations.”

That wasn’t a set of laws I had made myself familiar with, given what little relevance I had thought they would play on my life. Another solider yawned and shuffled into the empty dining area, taking his pick from the spread of breakfast. I had told myself again and again that it was just a few more years until I’d be considered an adult, but at the moment I had far less freedom over myself than all the military members stuffed into the hotel.

_You’d think that being without parents for so long would count for something, wouldn’t it?_

“Caiman? Hey, Caiman, wake up.” I blinked and shook my head out. Where was I? Right, eating shitty breakfast at a goddamn military hotel in the middle of Central. Mustang frowned at me from across the table, his own sawdust flavored eggs forgotten on his plate. “You sure you’re going to be alright? Look, I know we just met a week ago, but you can talk to me.”

“Nine days,” I corrected.

“What?”

“Nothing important.” At least to anyone besides me. Dumb details didn’t matter at this point. I polished off the rest of my coffee, catching the sugar residue off the bottom. “I was just thinking of how awful the food is here. When I pass, use that fancy position of yours to get me a decent meal, would you?”

* * *

The exam hall had a ceiling that stretched up higher than three floors and was filled with enough single seater work tables to satisfy at least ten classroom’s worth of students. Not even a quarter of them were full as I stuffed the paper with my table number into my pocket and found my corresponding seat near the front of the room. Tall windows stretched across the walls to let the morning sunlight in, and more examinees trickled in. By the time the exam practitioner stepped to the front and announced that it was time to start, we filled a third of the room and were all sitting very far apart.

We were reminded of the rules and told not to start until everyone received their exams. The testing period lasted well into the afternoon, and we would have a scheduled (and monitored) lunch break around midday.

I was one of the first to receive the manual sized stack of papers that consisted of the exam, plus several pre-sharpened pencils. I cast my eyes around the room to see my fellow test takers. Most were men, though a few women were scattered in, one looking old enough to be Rosomak’s mother. Nervousness twisted their faces in all directions, and a few I could guess to be previous failures moved their lips in silent attempts to calm themselves.

And even though I _knew_ I could pass this test, anxiety still bubbled through the remains of my pathetic breakfast.

_That ass is a military officer. He can afford to take me somewhere extra fancy when I crush this test._

All exams passed out, our exam practitioner back at the front of the room, and proctors seated on the edge of the room in lines of blue to prevent whatever modicum of cheating could be possible, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“The time limit until lunch is set for five hours. You may begin.”

The first several pages asked for definitions of basic alchemic terminology, naming words and their meanings and vice versa. I could recite a dictionary in my sleep. Not bothering to eye the clock, I focused on regurgitating the information required. Letting the time limit get to me would just dwindle my concentration. I would need that, considering the questions increased in difficulty every five pages. If you couldn’t answer the questions on page ten, good luck with page twenty-five. It served as a good benchmark for the examiners to figure out where everyone’s knowledge base stalled out at.

Not that I planned on stalling out.

Whatever answers I hadn’t seen in the test preparation material I had found in my own studies. The farther into the packet I got, the questions stopped being about naming theories and into more practical matters, like how to prepare research or what sort of components would be needed for certain transmutations. There were several sheets that involved completing transmutation circles or even drawing them from scratch.

There were no word banks or provided context. This allowed for creativity, which I could appreciate. It also set a reminder that most State Alchemists would be in more on-the-fly situations than the casual researcher. More complex problems named the hypothetical area you’d be conducting your transmutation in and required pulling items from the surroundings to transmute the item you’d need. Not to mention the questions of what to do in emergencies.

_If your regular means of transmutation were lost, list five alternate means of defending yourself._

_If you were cornered by an enemy without any backup, how would you buy time to conduct a transmutation?_

_In the event of death, how would you prevent your alchemical secrets from falling into enemy hands?_

I had been prepared for those questions because examples like them had been in the research material. The trick was that they didn’t have one right answer: you just had to show you at least had ideas in mind. Defending myself without my scythe was something I had dealt with before, so I pulled on that experience. The others were trickier, but I filled in the answer boxes as best I could. The whole point was to see your mental state and if you’d be better suited as a soldier or a researcher. If someone could display paper and practical knowledge, the rest could be worked out in training.

At least, I hoped that was the case.

“Pencils down. Please wait until a proctor collects your exam before leaving the room. You will be escorted to the lunch hall.”

I had been focusing so much on the words I had lost track of the time. I shook the cramp out of my hand and blinked my eyes a few times. With the coming of noon, less sunlight shone straight in through the windows, but most of the morning shadows were gone from outside. The rest of the test takers looked dazed, a few were biting their nails, and someone behind me was muttering about never finishing. Paper collection started from the back of the room, and I thumbed the pages of my exam, looking over what I had left.

A collection of eight more pages met me, and I resisted the urge to flip through and see the remaining questions. I didn’t know how much more ridiculous the questions _could_ get, but I had plenty of time. Looking over the room again, it seemed only a few were halfway through their packets, and some were still stuck in the first third.

Almost on the opposite side of the room from me, one examinee was in the final stretch like I was. He caught me squinting at him and waved. He looked young, somewhere in his early twenties, with caramel colored hair and dimples in his smile. I handed my exam to the passing proctor and accepted my dismissal to lunch.

The dining room we were let into matched the one in the military hotel in everything but size. Same lines of tables, same uncomfortable chairs, same white and green décor, just fit to house more people. Made sense since the place was part of the military base and not just an offshoot. We weren’t discouraged from talking to each other, but not many people took the chance. A few more sociable folk huddled together and whispered amongst themselves, but I chose an isolated corner to eat my mockery of pasta and salad.

I could’ve freaked myself out and ruminated on the rest of the exam. But I was ahead of the pack. I could finish what was left within the next hour and have an afternoon to myself. More time to sort out my transmutation issue. I had hoped the layout of the exam would give me some clues, but none of even the transmutation circle questions had worked with anything like my problem. Rosomak’s research had been intended to eliminate waste from unartful conversions, not compress materials the way I needed.

No one could overturn Equivalent Exchange. I couldn’t just ditch the materials I didn’t need for storage, then bring them back later. That wasn’t how it worked. I just needed to pick smarter materials, then make sure my circle could handle them.

_All this thinking is just making_ me _go around in circles._

I distracted myself the rest of the time by closing my eyes in my seat and thinking over my exam answers. I remembered a few places where I had miswritten something, and made mental notes to myself to correct them before I left. Our lunch hour passed in a blink, and then we were escorted back to our seats and the process repeated.

Sure enough, it took me just over an hour to finish the rest of the sheets and correct my previous answers. I called on the proctor and accepted my exit, despite all warnings that I wouldn’t be able to come back if I decided to change any of my answers.

I hadn’t meant to notice, but the brunette boy who had been just behind me watched me go, tapping his pencil against the back page of his exam.

* * *

“Caiman,” Mustang’s now familiar voice called just as I was about to step out of the building. He nodded to Rosomak beside him and jogged up to me. “You’re done a lot earlier than I expected. Everything go alright?”

I rested a hand on my hip and met his stare. I had hoped he wouldn’t be here, but I guessed he hadn’t been lying about doing work while we were here. Imagine that. “What, you’re worried that I wouldn’t finish?” I said, nodding to Rosomak as he approached. “Don’t you worry, I filled out every single damn page of that carpal tunnel inducing nightmare. Major General.”

“Miss young Caiman,” Rosomak said, that pleasant smile back on his face. “You don’t seem to be worried about any problems. I take it your written exam went well? No major difficulties?”

I couldn’t tell if he was trying to test me. Then I remembered that was more of Mustang’s game, the man in question staring me down like I had the map of an uninhibited chemical chain reaction stamped on my forehead. I toyed with my bangs. “The later questions took a bit of thought, but I’m certain I scored well everywhere else.” The practical was another issue, but baby steps.

“Not many people finish up so early. At the very least, they double check their work,” Mustang said. I narrowed my eyes at him. Did he think I was a fool or something? My lunch hour hadn’t gone to waste. Mustang gave me another of his smirks. “Now, now, Caiman, you were so certain about keeping your reputation in check. As your patron, I’m just making sure you’re doing the best you can.”

“Well, that is what the grading period is for,” Rosomak said, patting Mustang’s shoulder. “I’ll admit that I am curious to see your potential. The written exam is good for measuring that. The practical is where you put that potential to use.”

I nodded. “Right, Major General.”

Rosomak nodded. “So long as you understand.” He offered me a handshake. “I do hate to run, but I have a research partner to meet with, so I’ll be going. I’ll be attending the practical exam, though, so I’ll be sure to see you before you leave Central again. So long.”

Mustang and I echoed our farewells before Rosomak disappeared back into the hallways of the base. “You don’t have to worry about your practical, Caiman,” Mustang said. His smile looked reassuring for once. “It is a rough transmutation, but Amestris values fighting ability. Perform on the level you did when we first met, and you’ll be fine.”

“I wasn’t worried, Lt. Colonel,” I said, managing to hide every worry I _did_ have from my voice. “Though you sound rather sure that I passed my written exam.” I hated to admit it, but the show of confidence did feel rather nice.

“Well, the library staff did let me know you were studying every day.” Heat rushed to the tips of my ears. “I’m sure you didn’t put all that time to wa—gghk!”

I had stomped on Mustang’s foot the hardest I could muster. Then for good measure, I slammed my foot down again, a growl building in my throat. “Do me a favor,” I said, “and do your work instead of stalking me this evening, alright, you _ass_?”

Not even interested in his answer, I swirled around and stormed my way onto the streets.


	6. Six

**Kamaitachi Chronicles**

By: Aviantei

Six

* * *

As much as I wanted to go back to the library and try to force my transmutation circle into cooperation by sheer willpower, I hated the idea of Mustang knowing where I was even more, so I settled on taking a walk to clear my head. I had been through a fair number of areas in Central as I hunted down food in the evenings, but there were far too many streets in the city for me to cover on feet in a mere week. Double checking my mental map for a path that would take me as far away from both the military base and hotel as possible, I set off at a crisp march.

The sun shone down on the city with a pleasant afternoon breeze to keep things cool. Cars of all sizes rumbled past, running smooth over the roads. The stones were kept pressed even, and not so much as a pebble popped underfoot. I wouldn’t be surprised if alchemy was used to maintain the roads. I should’ve thought of it myself; most country towns threated twisted ankles on the casual stroll.

My meanderings farther south led me into a more residential district, neat homes painted in bright colors resting in cozy lines. Several young children scampered across the roads, chasing a ball in some game with rules that wouldn’t make sense to the uninitiated. The rubber bounced between hands as the kids shouted at each other, and a frantic cry rose up as the ball flew loose. It rolled down the street towards me, and I scooped it up before rolling it back.

They thanked me, and I caught sight of a smaller group tucked close to one of the fences. They all hunched over the road, pastel colored chalk gripped tight in their hands. I did a few small parlor tricks with alchemy, and even fixed up a few cracked toys. They were more than happy to let me join their art party after that.

I had never trained in any artistic sense, but I could draw alchemy circles from memory. Pulling my own thin piece of white chalk from my pocket, I sketched out the current circle from my scythe, just several times larger than usual. I had compressed the shape of the circle so it could fit on the capsule, plus keep on the handle. You needed a circle of energy in yourself to complete a transmutation, and I substituted the traditional double clap with my spins. I’d lose too much resourcefulness if I didn’t keep the circle at its current size.

However, alchemy allowed for fine detail work. Microscopic changes were easy when you were affecting the world on a molecular level. I could afford to think in bigger terms.

So I did, switching out my own chalk for the large colorful sticks that were better fit for children’s hands. Sometimes you needed to change your methods to think in new directions. Children’s chalk was the farthest thing I could think of from the State Alchemy exam. I changed colors from pink to pale green to yellow every couple of circle drafts, stitching together different inscriptions and element lines, waiting for something to click.

I ended up with about eleven circles on the concrete before I realized most kids had broken off from their own activities to watch me. Three of the others were still tossing the ball about, but I had a sizable audience. I flicked my eyes back to my own work, moving one of my metal symbols forty degrees clockwise around the edge and readjusting the cross lines to fit the new position.

“Big Sis’s art is so weird.”

“They all kinda look the same, huh?”

“What’s she trying to draw, anyway?”

“She’s trying to combine a fire theory into a metal layout, which is just asking for an explosion.”

That voice was too deep to be one of the kids, plus it didn’t register in my memory. I dropped my current piece of chalk (lilac purple) and joined the kids in looking up at the newcomer. It was the guy who’d waved at me in the exam hall. Out in the sun, his caramel hair shone even lighter and he looked more dressed for a desert excursion than a day out in the town, though it did show off his suntanned limbs. “Hey there, Miss Record Breaker,” he said. Deeper than the kids, but nowhere near Mustang’s timbre. Age had pulled his voice around, but not yet beaten it into the ground. “Were you just trying to show off by finishing way before anyone else?”

“Says the guy who probably finished right after me,” I said. The guy shrugged. I stood up, dusting chalk dust from my hands. “Now, if you tell me you followed me, we’re gonna have to conduct an ass kicking. One stalker is enough for me, thanks.”

I didn’t reach for my capsule, though the weight pressing against my leg from my pocket gave me little reassurance. Would it be enough to fight a fellow State Alchemist candidate? Mustang had toyed with me, but just because the guy in front of me had book knowledge didn’t mean he was a competent fighter.

_It doesn’t eliminate him having tricks up his sleeve, either._

“Oh, I guess it looks like that, huh?” the guy said, casting his gaze to the sky. The kids huddled close to each other, their eyes hopping between both of us. I hoped that some watchful parent didn’t peek out the window and mistake the situation. “Sorry, I’m staying at a hotel on the edge of the city, and this is on my route there.” Of course, not everyone had helpful military contacts. The guy gave a half-hearted smile and waved the kids off. They pouted but clamored back to the abandoned ball game soon enough. “I’ve been hanging out with the kids a bit, but I didn’t think someone else would have the same idea. Are you staying close?”

“No,” I said, not wanting to get into the topic. “I needed a walk after sitting around all morning and ended up here and I…” I glanced down to my incomplete alchemy circles, wanting nothing more than to smear them into oblivion. “Well, I tried thinking outside the box, I guess.”

“And ended up with a couple of nonsensical structures, I see.” The guy skimmed over my circles before giving a start. “Sorry, I’m Nicolaus Liaoning. I’m sure you noticed, but I’m taking the State Alchemist exam, too.”

My brow furrowed at his name, glancing over his person again. “Xingese? No offense, but you don’t look it.” Sure, my knowledge of the country was some basic words, myths, and topography, but this guy wouldn’t be mistaken for hailing from the east any time soon.

Liaoning laughed. “That’s ‘cause I’m not. Well, by any rational means.” He rubbed a finger under his nose. “I’m like a sixteenth Xingese, the rest Amestrian. I just got the lucky name chain all the way down.” Well, Xingese immigrants weren’t common in Amestris’s history, but not impossible, either. “I’m guessing you don’t have secret foreign roots hidden in your past, do you?”

Ah, I had skipped giving my name. I didn’t want to make a connection with this guy, but he hadn’t done anything wrong. I would just need to decline any further offers for company if they arose. “Ivy Caiman,” I said. “We may be fellow examinees, but that doesn’t mean much, does it?”

“Don’t be silly, it means we’re both alchemists,” Liaoning said, leaning down to get a closer look at my circles. I watched as he traced his fingers around the chalk lines. “I don’t think I’ve seen you at the exam before, but you’ve got a sharp head on your shoulders to finish your written portion like that. And while you have some errors, these arrays are impressive, too. Original?”

“Yes,” I said before any sense of caution overcame me. Alchemical research was a valuable thing, and original breakthroughs were guarded in code. It was a good thing all my attempts had been failures, otherwise I would’ve spilled my secrets across the street. I kneeled back to the ground myself, keeping track of how much Liaoning observed the circles. “You’ve been to the exam before, I take it?”

Another bashful laugh. “Yeah, well, I always seem to miss the practical cut. But!” Liaoning put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. “I studied extra hard this past year, so I’m sure I got a good enough score. I knew most of the answers like it was nothing. They’ll just have to get ready to watch me this time.”

Ah, full of determination and hard work. It wouldn’t do any good to mention my over the top memory, then, not that I’d been planning to. “We’ll find out in a few days.” I was sure I’d be performing, but I didn’t know what kind of knowledge Liaoning had. He had picked out the error in my circle by just a casual glance, too. It didn’t matter much; even with the few cut off values, the exam wasn’t meant to be a competition.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Liaoning tapped at the circle closest to him. “So what are you working on here? I can’t tell with all the different things you’ve got scattered here. Sure, it’s a metal transmutation.” He glanced back to my mismatched elements. “I think. But what’s it for?”

I snatched up the closest piece of chalk and crossed out that mistake. “That one was me spacing out,” I said, wishing it was just a bit warmer so I could have an excuse for why my face was starting to heat up. “As for the rest, they’re a personal project.”

“Oh, so they’re for your practical demonstration then.” He was right, but I just shrugged. “Well, I can get why you wouldn’t share, but it’s a bit late to be preparing your presentation. Didn’t you think this through before?”

He had such a nice tone it would’ve made it difficult to get mad at him—if I weren’t annoyed at my own lack of preparedness already. In fact, the way he was so polite about the damn thing just ticked me off more. I put the piece of chalk aside before I snapped it in half. A quick transmutation could fix that, but upsetting kids wasn’t high on my activity preferences. “It’s not like I was planning on doing this until a week ago.”

Liaoning blinked, his smile dropping for a second. “If you weren’t planning it, then why are you doing it?” I glanced to the kids, hoping for an out, but they had moved way too far down the street to even catch their attention without being obvious. “Wait, a week? If you haven’t been studying for a while, how’d you take care of the exam so quickly?”

“I got recommended, okay?” And the details of that could keep out of the conversation. “It just worked out. Why the hell are you so worked up, anyway?”

“Because I—” Liaoning snapped his mouth far faster than he’d flung it open. He took a short breath, and I pulled out my own chalk, adding correctional lines to the pale blue circle in front of me. If this one broke, it was at least my own property. “Sorry, that was rude of me. I’ve just…been working really hard to do this, so hearing someone take it lightly…”

Ah, so he was the hardworking type. Picturing someone like him as one of the military’s dogs didn’t seem right. “I’ve been studying alchemy for a while, just not for this,” I said, tucking a lock of hair behind me ear. “The opportunity’s a good one to help a lot of people, so I thought I’d try. Your work all paid off if you completed the written exam so quickly.” He at least deserved a shot a hell of a lot more than I did, my connections with Mustang or no.

Despite my best attempts to avoid eye contact, Liaoning’s resulting silence didn’t give me much other choice. Still sketching idle lines on the road, I glanced up. Liaoning looked every bit like a kid seeing new toy sitting in the window.

_Dammit, he’s honest_ and _a weirdo. If both of us pass, I hope we get assigned far away from each other._

“That’s it. That’s exactly it, Caiman!” Liaoning shifted his weight to his right foot, bouncing all the way. “I’ve been working so hard because I want to help people, too. If you’re a State Alchemist, you get all sorts of research funds and stipends. My town’s not the best out there, and I do a lot with alchemy, but having that money would mean I could do so much more, you know? I wish there were more people like you taking the exam.”

“Yeah…” Was that better than him getting upset at me for taking such a half-assed approach to things? I couldn’t tell. If he decided that was enough for us to become friends, then it would be appalling. I went to stand up. “Well, I won’t be able to do much good if I can’t put on a good show for my practical, so I should get—”

Liaoning snatched onto my sleeve with the force of a disturbed viper, his grip almost sending me crashing back to the ground. “Hold on, I think I figured out what you need,” he said, and I checked my palms for any damage. All that was smeared on them was chalk dust. Liaoning pointed at the circle I had been sketching at while we talked. “This is a metal composition swap, right? You’re trying to adjust overall density along with space.”

Considering an entire section of the exam had been dedicated to identifying the properties of circles, I wasn’t surprised he could figure that out. “Yeah,” I said, because there was no point in lying about it.

“Okay.” Liaoning pulled out his own chalk from one of the multitudes of pockets on his shorts. He urged me aside, then started adding inscriptions to the edge of the circle. “I work with metal a lot, so I’m used to dealing with this sort of thing. If we make these adjustments here…”

He kept scribbling along, and I was stuck watching. A woman’s voice shouted a few houses down, signaling that it was time for a child to return home. When he was done, Liaoning dusted off his hands and smiled. “There,” he said. “That should give you a start.”

I recognized enough properties of circles to know that he’d done better work than I’d been getting the past few days. This one was good enough to test on my scythe. “Why are you helping me?” I asked. Even if it wasn’t a competition, there wasn’t anything he would gain out of fixing my circles. “There’s no point.”

“Don’t be silly,” Liaoning said, “being an alchemist is all about helping people. There’s no rule that we have to help people all on our lonesome.”

I wanted to tell him that his ideals didn’t have a place in the Amestrian military, but I couldn’t unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. 


	7. Seven

**Kamaitachi Chronicles**

By: Aviantei

Seven

* * *

“Congratulations,” Mustang said when he walked back into the hotel two afternoons later. “You not only managed to finish the written exam faster than anyone else, but you scored more than high enough to make it into the practical. You test tomorrow morning.”

I looked up from the bed, where I had been resting after experimenting with Liaoning’s proposed transmutation circle. I had needed to make a few adjustments to better suit the flow of my alchemy, but it did the job. I’d be more than ready to go the next day.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I said, pulling myself up into a sit. My mind swam a bit at the sudden movement, but settled down after a few blinks. I tried to pat down my resulting bedhead. “I told you I had the written exam handled. Didn’t you believe me?”

Mustang worked off his boots and pulled the desk chair closer to my bed before taking a seat. There was a slump in his shoulders from whatever work he’d been pulled into. I’d been so focused on avoiding him that I had no idea what he was up to. “I’m glad you’re progressing well,” he said, but there wasn’t any of his usual smirking. “You’re early on the list, so we’ll be able to head back to East City in the afternoon once you’re done.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “In that much of a rush? We’re not gonna stay and wait for the results?” There were a lot of things I could learn from watching other State Alchemist candidates perform their demonstrations. Part of me was even curious about what Liaoning’s alchemy was like—or what he’d think of the way I’d applied his circle. “I’d thought you’d be all for playing hooky an extra day.”

“As nice as it’s been to get another break from the office so soon, I can’t stay away too long. It looks like there might be an investigation or two that needs my presence.” Mustang leaned back in the chair, opening up his military jacket to reveal the pale blue dress shirt underneath. “They’ll contact my office with your results, so we’ll find out just as quick as we would here. Best get the travel out of the way.”

I nodded. No sense in delaying time on the road. After a week of free range walking, I wasn’t quite looking forward to another train ride, but nothing to do about it. “So what happens after I get my qualification anyways? I know for a fact I’m not gonna be able to wander around the country like I did before.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Mustang sighed, tapping his fingers across his kneecap. Without his gloves, his hands looked so ordinary. “Considering the route you’re going for in your practical, they’re going to want you as more of a soldier than a researcher.” It seemed a convenient assignment into Rosomak’s office wasn’t happening anytime soon. “You being a minor creates difficulties, too, but you’re not the first person to go through this. They’ll expect you to take on some core training, plus report to an advising officer until you reach legal age.”

I gave him the best stink eye I could muster. “And I’m assuming you pulled in enough favors so that officer will be you?” Mustang’s smirk came back in full force. I resisted the urge to punch the mattress. “If it weren’t for the fact that you got me into this position in the first place, I’d be very much questioning your motives in helping me, Lt. Colonel.”

Mustang shrugged and stretched his arms above his head. His joints popped loud enough to make me wince. “I’ll spare you the long version,” he said, knowing full well I’d much rather have the long version to hold against him, “but I know what becoming a soldier so young can do to someone. At the very least, I want you to have some time before you have to worry about those decisions.”

How long had he been a soldier? Long enough to understand what it meant to be a State Alchemist at the very least. I almost asked, but I didn’t want that much knowledge sticking to me. Alchemy notes were one thing, because I could use them no matter the outcome, but personal information led to trouble.

Personal information meant I was willing to become attached.

“Don’t be so stupid,” I said, flopping down onto the mattress with my back facing him. “If you knew all that, don’t go recruiting kids for this job in the first place.”

Mustang let out a mirthless chuckle. “You’re right. Too bad I didn’t think of that sooner.”

* * *

The practical exam hall was in the same building the written exam had been held in, but didn’t have any convenient windows to let the sun in. Dull gray spread across the walls, up to the observation level that circled the edges. Any exam participants were allowed to watch, and it was open to soldiers as well, while civilians were excluded. Mustang had checked us out of the hotel early enough they hadn’t even started serving breakfast yet, but several of both parties were spread out around the space by the time we arrived. A quick cursory glance showed Rosomak and Liaoning among them.

Liaoning and I were in the same testing group, as the passing participants were grouped by alphabetical order—we were the first batch, and the remaining practicals would take place the next day, while Mustang and I would already be back in East City.

Mustang chose a position close to the exit and dropped his baggage against the support wall. I followed suit and rolled my shoulders, my capsule feeling heavier than ever in my pocket; I’d have an easier time carrying around a lead weight. On the other side of the room, Liaoning shot me a quizzical look at my company, but was distracted as the first practical underway.

Leandra Abrams was the older woman I’d noticed during the practical exam. Her limbs were all long and lithe, but her face was covered in rivulets of wrinkles that made it impossible to guess what she might have looked like when she was younger. I knew better than to judge people based on their appearances, but she still looked every bit like she would fall over as she set a few small canisters out on top of her air based transmutation circle.

The entire room burst into gray smoke, a cacophony of coughs erupting from every direction. I pressed my sleeve into my mouth, trying to blink tears out of my eyes. There wasn’t much to be said about setting off a natural chemical reaction, but getting this far meant she had to know that.

I heard the crackle of a new transmutation before I saw the light from it, and the blanket of smoke retreated, snapping back to the center of the room. Two whip-like appendages were in Abrams’s hands, fluctuating without so much as her movement—she hadn’t created a solid, but instead contained her gas show. Abrams flicked her wrist once, the gas whip rending a deep gash in the floor, showing just how substantial it could be.

That made her display of what seemed to be a martial arts form, whips cracking in all directions, all the more impressive. I had thought she’d be aiming for a research position, but she still had some fight in her.

Making a stand out impression was not going to be easy.

Not that I was giving in. Mustang urged me to head downstairs as two standby alchemists repaired the damage. Whether or not Abrams had impressed him, it seemed leaving on schedule was his priority after all. I shrugged him off and reconfirmed my registration with the proctors downstairs and waited my turn.

I had always considered myself a good thinker under pressure. Living though travel tended to have acting on your feet as a prerequisite to staying alive. But when I stepped out into the practical hall, a different sort of pressure washed over me, the kind that came from being the center of attention. All eyes were on me from military officers of all ranks. Up above, Mustang kept his casual stance, as did Rosomak. Liaoning seemed to be leaning over the edge of the railing, as if that would make it easier for him to see what I was doing before I did it.

I didn’t close my eyes. I looked them head on. There was no need for hesitation; just action. I had done everything I could, from research to practice.

 _This is_ my _alchemy, dammit. Like I’ll let anyone else show me up._

“Ivrena Caiman,” I announced, pulling out my capsule and letting the familiar weight sink into my palm, “sixteen years old.”

Staring the proctor across from me straight in the eyes, I flicked my capsule into the air, caught it in the opposite hand, and spun in a circle as my scythe extended to life. I didn’t let myself focus on the people watching. I couldn’t falter. Grasping my scythe in both hands, I felt the weight of the blade, and the counter balance I had placed on the other side.

Abrams had given a demonstration of her alchemy mixed with her fighting style. And as much as I would have liked to take on a more researched based position, I had planned the same thing.

Unlike martial arts, I didn’t have any set kata or forms I could use as a reference. My own fighting style had been built through trial and error, sometimes flailing around on the battle field. The best practice I could get was replicating sketches of pole arm forms and adjusting the way I threw the scythe’s weight around to account for the blade.

So I didn’t focus on showing off forms, instead initiating a mock battle with an invisible enemy. It would have been ideal to have an actual opponent, but I could make do. I thought back onto every thug I had met on the road, Mustang included, and fought against their shadows until I had knocked each one of their sorry heads off, leaving just as many gouges in the exam hall as Abrams did.

That in itself should have been a good enough stopping point, but I hadn’t tweaked my circle to high hell and back just to not use it.

Liaoning hadn’t been lying when he said he was good with metals. His circle had such an effective conversion rate that transmuting my capsule to my scythe left over a good amount of excess material. And while I could have just ditched that excess to solve my weight problem, it didn’t make sense to me to not make use of the weight I already knew how to swing around.

Stomping my foot to the ground as I stopped, I slapped my scythe into rotation, as I would to revert its form back. I’m sure Mustang and Rosomak, who had seen my closer before, thought that I was through. But I pushed the transmutation to the next level, extending out the counterweight on the opposite end of the scythe.

I held out my weapon, parallel to the ground, and spent a breathless second looking at the second blade protruding from the bottom of my handle.

I gave it a second for that to sink in to the audience. Then I went right back at it.

I had been training with the counterweight so I could be prepared for the adjustments in mass, but the blade added the effects of wind resistance. I had practiced enough to not look like a flailing idiot while fighting with it, but two days weren’t enough to make me as proficient as I was with my usual blade. I went through a few additional swipes and twirls to showcase my agility.

Two more motion sets to go, then I could close the show. I went into my next volley of clanging attacks, the lower end’s blade scouring into the floor.

Something snagged that wasn’t supposed to, and I almost lost my balance. The usual echo of my blade changed in frequency, just enough that I could tell my blade wasn’t going to last through another hit like that. I cursed, but having my scythe fall apart in the middle of the examination wasn’t going to get me a passing grade. I adjusted the angle of all my swipes up, steering far away from the ground, then performed my last transmutation of scythe back to capsule one volley of battle early.

The practical exam wasn’t the sort of place where the audience showed off their appreciation by applause, but even if it was I wouldn’t have been able to hear anything over my own ragged breaths and accelerated heartbeat thundering in my ears.

* * *

I tramped my way towards the Central military base’s exit, not even bothering to look at Mustang’s expression as he followed behind me, carting along both our suitcases. I hadn’t looked at Rosomak or Liaoning, either. Since I had stopped myself before nothing too outrageous had gone wrong, I didn’t think there would be any problem with my exam.

That didn’t change the fact that someone who had watched me fight before would notice that I’d hesitated in that second. I grit my teeth and tried not to kick the door open, the sunlight just pissing me off more. Not even a single trail of clouds marred the clear blue sky, as happy as could be. I stomped down the path to the train station.

_Why didn’t I test the goddamn durability parameters? That’s the most obvious part. Swinging around doesn’t do any good if it can’t take the hit._

Even with my new circle, I was stretching my materials too far. I had fixed one problem, but my resulting upgrade just brought another.

“Hey,” Mustang said as he caught up to my side, “I did have a car arranged. You don’t have walk all the way there.”

“We have plenty of time,” I said, glaring at the road in front of me. Not too many people were out given how early in the morning it was, but that was a relative comparison for the population of Central. Either because of my glare, Mustang’s uniform, or a combination of both, most passersby cleared out of our way. I looked back to my battered suitcase in Mustang’s grip and ripped it from his hands. “Give me that.”

He didn’t try to say anything else all the way until we boarded our train. I propped my cheek on my hand and stared out the window. My problem was fixable. That wasn’t the issue. I just hadn’t thought things through enough. For the second time in eleven days, I had acted like a complete idiot.

“Caiman,” Mustang said, his tone so neutral it was like he’d bleached all feeling from it. If he had acted concerned or chiding, I might have just smacked him. “Do you want to talk about what’s on your mind?”

“I’d rather show off my potential than just sit in mediocrity,” I said, watching as Central city buildings gave way to the green hills and trees of the country. “That’s what I’ve decided I’m going to do from here on out.”

In his reflection in the train window, I could still see the corners of Mustang’s mouth lift into a smirk. “So long as you understand that much, I don’t think you’re going to have a problem.”

I didn’t disagree with him. I was too worried if I opened my mouth I might thank him instead.


	8. Eight

**Kamaitachi Chronicles**

By: Aviantei

Eight

* * *

I had expected to get overrun by Rito and Maes upon returning to East City, but it seemed all of Mustang’s office was so caught up in their investigation that they didn’t have time for that. Not yet a member of the military myself, I didn’t have much reason to be hanging around that wouldn’t be getting in the way, so I kept to myself and learned the layout of East City while performing minor alchemical fixes for some extra pocket money, only returning to Mustang’s apartment for dinnertime in the event that he’d received news of my State Alchemist Exam placement.

Three days past our return, he had received just that.

“Normally I’d do this sort of thing in an official capacity, but your watch and other certifications still need to be delivered,” he said when he got home that evening. “But I wanted to let you know that, even with your slip up, you passed. Congratulations, you’re now the Sickle Weasel alchemist.”

I snorted at him on the couch. “Who even picked that sort of name?” Mustang raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged off his gaze. “I just read about it in a book when I was little, but there’s an Eastern myth with the same title—the Kamaitachi.” Not that I had any qualms about taking on such a name, even if my alchemy didn’t have much to do with wind. Thinking on the East, though, reminded me of Liaoning. “Who else passed?”

Mustang thought it over for a few minutes as he paced towards his bedroom. I reminded myself that not everyone’s brain sucked in information like mine did. What an inconvenience. “Abrams, the woman with the smoke did.” I didn’t doubt that; I felt convinced she could knock me on my ass in ten seconds flat. “And one other. I can’t remember his name; I was more focused on your details so I could pass them on.”

That meant it could have been Liaoning. But even if he did pass, he’d be more focused on his town and research, for sure. Sometime we might see each other, and I could thank him. Then again, if he didn’t pass, it would be easy to track him down at the next exam if I needed to.

Mustang stepped out of his room, uniform dismissed, but in a fancier getup than his casual clothes. I couldn’t help myself from thinking that his uniform suited him more. “What’re you all dressed up for? Got a date or something?”

His chuckle was almost enough to knock out the elation from passing out of the way. “I’m sure you wouldn’t appreciate my calling it that. You asked for a good meal when you passed, right? I do deliver on my promises, you know.”

My mind processed that for a minute, then I hopped up on the couch and elbowed Mustang out of the way as I headed for the bedroom to change. “Give me ten minutes.”

* * *

As I had been living out of my suitcase, I had just one nicer outfit tucked away for when I needed to impress a client or just plain wanted to treat myself (which wasn’t often). Couple that with the fact that my hair was kept short, and it didn’t take long for me to get ready. The thin turtleneck clung to my torso a bit tighter than it was meant to, reminding me that I hadn’t bought myself new clothes in the past eleven months.

That was something I could deal with once I started getting my State Alchemist stipend in. As far as I was concerned, dinner was on Mustang.

We took a car, and I watched the streets roll past, streetlights starting to flicker on as sunset approached. When Mustang turned towards the more residential districts instead of the shopping ones, I glanced at him, but didn’t say anything. I couldn’t cover the whole city on foot in three days, so he had to know more about the locations than I did.

_What a pain in the ass._

He parked in front of a single story house, getting out without any hesitation. I glanced around, knowing a quiet street when I saw one, and followed suit. “Lt. Colonel,” I said, following him up the sidewalk, “mind telling me just where we are?”

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough.”

And see I did when, seconds after Mustang rang the bell, the front door of the house flew open, revealing Maes on the other side. At least, I assumed as much, considering I was swept up into a hug and Maes’s voice was near blowing out my ear as he said, “Congratulations on your exam!”

“Thank…you,” I managed, trying to extract myself from Maes’s hold without harming him. My lifestyle hadn’t left much room for sudden contact from others, even if Maes was something closer to a friend. _Not just a friend. A comrade. You’re in the same boat now._ Maes ceased his hug, giving me room to breathe, and Mustang smirked. I resolved to kick the crap out of him at the next possible opportunity. “Geeze, I didn’t know the Lt. Colonel here was so cheap he has to mooch off his friends for dinner.”

Maes laughed, his hand on my shoulder to guide me inside. Despite how large his palms were, the gesture was gentle. “Well, I insisted, actually. You haven’t met Gracia yet. Have I told you about Gracia? Oh, she’s just the sweetest thing, I—”

“Yes, you showed me a picture when we first met,” I said, trying to subvert the oncoming rambling. Mine and Mustang’s jackets secure on the coatrack, Maes led us down the hall, towards the savory scent of grilling meat. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense.” Maes shook his head as we rounded a corner. Pictures of Maes and his wife from various stages of their relationship were hung across the walls, along with some décor, all in the theme of leaves and flowers. Without much sun from the outside, the lights provided their artificial glow instead. “Roy doesn’t eat well enough as it is, so he comes over often enough.”

“Oh, trust me, I know plenty about that one,” I said, throwing a look back to Mustang. He rolled his eyes at the both of us. “And when he does eat, it hardly passes as food.” We’d known each other for two weeks on the dot, and the best quality food I’d seen him eat had come from the train.

“Right. Plus you’re joining our chain of command in East City. That’s plenty worth celebrating.” What little serious tone he had shifted out, back to his wistful enthusiasm. “Besides, it’d be just cruel of me to keep Gracia’s cooking to myself. Oh! Honey, our guests are here.”

We stepped into the kitchen, the hardwood floor extending out past the stove and cabinets into a dining area. A table just large enough to accommodate the Hugheses and a few guests sat under the hanging light fixture. Pale blue china sparkled in the place settings. This really was too much for something as simple as passing an exam, but it wasn’t like I could bail ship now. I’d at least be on my best behavior to thank the Hugheses for their courtesy.

Speaking of, Maes was so busy fussing over his wife by the sink that I couldn’t even see her around him. I glanced to Mustang for guidance, but he just shrugged with a smile. This would be the norm then. After a few moments of the couple speaking amongst themselves, the woman spoke up. “Maes, dear, aren’t you going to introduce me to our guest?”

“Right, yes.” Maes cleared his throat and stepped aside, an arm tucked around his wife’s shoulders. She looked just as she did in all the photos: short, sandy blonde hair, pear colored eyes, and a round, beautiful face. The biggest difference was the pregnancy bump at her stomach. I judged her somewhere in the early second trimester. “Like I said, this is my wife, Gracia. Honey, this is Ivy Caiman, as of today the Sickle Weasel Alchemist.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, offering my hand to shake.

“Likewise.” Gracia’s hands were smooth, but still bore a few nicks and scratches. I went full force on my grip out of habit, though it might have been overblown for a casual greeting. I was used to having to prove my character through a handshake, but Gracia let it slide, trading off pleasantries with Mustang. “There’s still a few minutes until the potatoes come out of the oven, so you can make yourselves comfortable at the table if you like.” I nodded and did just that, Mustang’s steps following behind me. “Maes, would you get Hanna?”

I performed an about face so fast that I almost ran into Mustang’s chest. My mouth flapped a few times, but no sound came out. I had expected to learn more about the women whose names Maes used as fodder against Mustang soon, since we’d be in a professional capacity together. Part of me had even considered asking Maes for more information, as he seemed the type to spill on his best friend’s secrets if it was in good fun. But I hadn’t even considered I’d be meeting one already, and _not_ at the dinner at hand.

_What, did he just think introducing me to his fling or whatever would be a good idea? Is this payback for me being snippy with him? For slipping up on my practical? What?_

“Did you forget something in the car?” Mustang asked, raising an eyebrow down at me. Maes had trotted out of the room, and I held down my temper enough to not tear into him in front of Gracia. I knew where this guy slept, dammit, and a solid revenge could come later. But for the moment, I had to say _something_ so he’d know I didn’t appreciate his frivolous games. “I can go get it for you. The guest of honor should at least relax tonight.”

I hissed, “If you wanted me to relax, you shouldn’t have—”

“Come on,” Maes’s voice rolled in from the hallway, and I clamped my jaw shut hard enough I could feel the muscles tense in my neck. “She’s a friend of mine and Roy’s, so she’s not scary at all. Besides, it’s almost dinner time.”

“Wait, Uncle Roy’s here?” Small footsteps thundering sent vibrations all the way to my feet, and a redheaded blur slid across the floor before colliding with Mustang’s leg. “You jerk, you went and left right after you got back. And then you didn’t even come see me when you’re home to stay.” Mustang flinched as a small fist collided with the back of his knee. “What’s the deal? You owe me ten day trips!”

Mustang groaned, extracting the form from his leg and planting her at a safe distance. He even kept a hand in her messy rolls of red hair to hold her in place. “That’s not how you do math, let alone Equivalent Exchange,” he said. “Now stop being rude and say hi to Caiman.”

I blinked. The girl blinked, hazel eyes with specks of brown registering my presence. While it was nice to be taller than someone in the damn room for a change, it didn’t count so much when the kid had to be around ten. She wore overalls, baring a few almost unperceivable stains around the cuffs, and freckles filled up every inch of her exposed skin. She looked me up and down once, then twice, and nodded.

“I’m Hanna Lockheed,” she said, popping her fists to her hips. “You’re the Ivy Uncle Maes has been talking about, right? Congrats on passing your State Alchemist exam.”

“Thanks,” I said, still trying to remember how my mouth worked.

“And if you ever drag Uncle Roy away from me again,” Hanna continued, pointing an index finger right at me, “then we’re going to have to fight. I won’t lose!”

_Come again?_

I glanced to anyone in the room for support. Mustang sighed, Maes was still grinning, and Gracia stepped up as the voice of reason. “Hanna, you can’t just go saying things like that to people you’ve just met.” Hanna at least had the sense of mind to look abashed. “I’m sorry, Miss Caiman. She’s my niece, and we look after her often. She’s gotten rather attached to Maes and Roy.”

I shook my head. “No, please, call me Ivy. I mean, I understand.” Kind of. Not really. I had gotten worked up all over nothing—no, not nothing. There was still Riza to figure out. I coughed, trying to clear the tension. “I was kind of a handful when I was little.” I didn’t go challenging adults to fights, though. “You went through all the trouble of making dinner for us, so let’s just enjoy our meal, shall we?”

With a little bit of coaxing, the party migrated over to the table. Maes and Gracia sat side by side, and Hanna insisted on taking the seat between her two “uncles.” I didn’t mind, sitting across from Gracia and out of arms reach of the little redhead I was certain had it out for me.

“You know,” Mustang said at one point, “I was out recruiting someone else when I left the first time. Are you gonna try to fight him, too, when I escort him to take his exam?”

Hanna nodded, fork and knife firmly in hand. “I won’t forgive him, either.”

“Though speaking of the exam,” Maes stepped in, not even looking the slightest bit concerned. Maybe if you were around Hanna enough, her actions stopped concerning you. Or maybe Maes was just that nice. “Ivy, I don’t think I’ve seen your alchemy, though with a name like Sickle Weasel, I’m guessing it’s weaponry.” I nodded. “Well, I’m sure everyone will be glad to hear that at base. It’s nice to have another combat specialist around with the crime rate going up and all.”

“Maes, she’ll learn about all that once she starts working.” Funny how Gracia didn’t even need to harden her voice, and Maes cut his line of conversation off. “Tonight’s about celebration, so let’s enjoy it, alright.”

The sharp look Mustang sent to his friend suggested he agreed as well.

“You’re gonna be a fighter?” Hanna asked, breaking away from her examination of a piece of squash skewered on the end of her fork.

“That’s right,” I said. Considering that’s what I had shown off with, I didn’t have much other choice. Still, I was sure I’d be given research time, too. There was a lot to look into while I finished my registration.

Hanna added a piece of zucchini to her small totem pole of vegetables. “Hmmm. I wanna see, then! Not right now, ‘cause we’re eating dinner, but I wanna watch you fight Uncle Roy.”

“Hanna—” Mustang attempted.

“Actually,” I said, smirking at the man beside me, “I was thinking the same thing.”


	9. Nine

**Kamaitachi Chronicles**

By: Aviantei

Nine

* * *

“What were you _thinking_?” I asked after Maes had given me at least fifteen farewell hugs, Hanna had done the same to Mustang, and we had managed to extract ourselves long enough to make it back into the car. Clouds deepened the darkness across the night sky, street lights looking like oversized fireflies hanging above the roads. I rubbed my arms through my jacket, trying to adjust back to the chill of the outdoors. “You couldn’t have bothered to tell me that Hanna was this hell colored little girl who seems to want to make an enemy of anyone who wants to steal your attention?”

There hadn’t been any incidents, but I knew a child who was very good at hiding what they were planning when I saw them. Just the right lick of sweetness in Hanna’s words suggested she was selling it. Or maybe I was just frazzled and paranoid. At least we had been able to agree that me fighting Mustang again was a great idea. She was withholding judgement on me until then.

“I think I’m the one who should be asking what _you_ were thinking,” Mustang said, sparing me a glance before looking back to the road. Considering the street ahead was dead empty, there wasn’t much point in criticizing his poor driving etiquette. “There’s no point in both of us fighting each other. You just got that certification. Don’t go making a spectacle of yourself.”

I rolled my eyes and slumped further down into my seat, propping my knees against the dashboard. It wasn’t that late, but sleep sure did sound nice. “I’m not making a spectacle. The kid wanted to see my alchemy, and I don’t think Maes would appreciate me swinging my scythe all around his nicely furnished living room.” I tapped my fingers against my knee, trying to distract the sudden energy swelling in me. “Besides, you didn’t give me a fair fight last time. I don’t want or need you to go easy on me.”

Mustang snorted, though it was at half force. The evening must’ve done its toll on him, plus he’d woken up before me to get to work. “You were the one looking all pleased when you realized I was hiding my second glove. Don’t tell me you didn’t suspect it.”

“That’s different than letting me win.”

“How so?”

“Because it implies that even with that handicap you could’ve beaten me.” I shifted my fingers into a fist, bouncing that on my knee instead. It didn’t help much. “I want to know if that’s true or not. If I’m going to be a military asset, I should at least have the right to spar with someone who’s in the same position as I am, right?”

Mustang didn’t respond, and the rumbling of the car’s engine filled the silence. The heater had started to kick in, but frustration fueled most of the heat under my collar. Outside the car, a stray cat slinked into a nearby alleyway, disappearing into the shadows. Even such a pretty city had its dark spots.

“You’re going to be taking on basic combat training as part of your enlistment anyways,” Mustang said to the windshield, his voice possessing the even and metered tone of a school teacher on the verge of losing their patience. “If you want to have a short match, I can accommodate it, mainly because Hanna won’t let it go if I don’t. But let’s sort out your enlistment and paperwork first, and I’ll make a gap in my schedule once my investigation calms down a bit.”

Well, it would have to do. At least he wasn’t running away from it. I shifted my weight a bit as numbness attempted to settle into my calves. “What are you investigating anyway? Maes mentioned that, too.” He hadn’t let any further details slip, though, as to not ruin the celebratory mood. “You said I’m going to be under your supervision, right? That means I’ll work on your cases, too, so I should know what’s going on.”

Pulling to a stop at an intersection, Mustang turned to me with a challenging look. “Sort out your training before getting too far ahead of yourself.”

* * *

It turned out that sorting out my enlistment involved far more jumping through hoops than I’d expected. Most of them had to do with filling out special forms regarding my status as a State Alchemist, from my immediate position as Major General to a notice that laid out all the kinds of loopholes it would take to discuss my alchemical research with anyone outside the government or my immediate family.

I didn’t have any acquaintances outside of those two areas, so it wasn’t a hard set of rules to follow.

Mustang let me fill out my own paperwork that time, as he had to go out as part of his investigation. The familiar face of Kain was missing, so he must’ve been out doing the same. That left me with Rito as my only point of familiarity, and she wasted no time in clearing me out an empty spot at the joint work table and introducing me to the other two officers who had been left to desk duty for the day.

Vato Falman had lines in his face that made him look a bit older than I thought he was and apologized for being so brief as he returned to his intelligence gathering. Rito yanked me away before I could so much as get a glimpse at his papers to meet Heymans Breda, a heavyset redhead who chatted with me a bit before returning to his own work as well.

“And Jean and Hawkeye are out with the Lt. Colonel today, so you’ll have to meet them another time,” Rito finished. It was her second time mentioning Jean by his given name, so they seemed close in comparison to the others. Then again, Jean was the man Rito’d gone off to tell about my presence in Mustang’s office the first time, so maybe meeting him later could wait. I tucked the names away for later reference. “I’ll let you do what ya gotta do, but if you need a breather, don’t be afraid to take one. It gets real dull around here real fast if you just go all out all the time.”

It seemed Rito and I had very different philosophies on life.

Despite the invitation, she left me alone as I worked through all my paperwork and forms and combat waivers, reviewing all my duties and benefits as a State Alchemist. In addition to my regular pay (which was way more than I’d ever thought I’d make in my life beforehand), I also received a research fund, both of which I could access with my State Alchemist watch once I got it. I resolved my first purchase to be new materials to sturdy up my scythe.

The next few days went by in mundane tasks from getting fitted for my uniforms, sorting out my move into the military dormitories and the fuck out of Mustang’s apartment, and, just what I had always wanted, more paperwork. I did meet Jean—a tall, blonde haired man who smelled like cigarette smoke—but Hawkeye stayed out in the field. Watching everyone else, I couldn’t help but wonder if this whole thing had been a ruse for Mustang to get someone else to help sort through the infinite amounts of paperwork that shuffled through his office each day.

I did catch onto a bit of information about the investigation—that multiple attacks had been taking place over the past few months, several citizens ending up in the hospital, and the first death had occurred while Mustang and I were away for the State Alchemist exam. Most conversations cut off once the team realized I was listening, and I had to spend most of my time calculating the different materials I would need for upgrading my scythe.

 _I know I’m a kid, but they can’t keep me out of this forever. Or maybe Mustang’s been telling them to keep quiet about it? I should’ve kept my mouth shut with that recruiting kids comment._ As I’d finished moving into my military housing the previous afternoon, I couldn’t even grill Mustang about it when he got home.

“Dissatisfied with your decision already, young Miss Caiman?” a familiar soothing voice said from above my shoulder. “Or I should be calling you Major General Caiman now?”

I leapt up in shock at the sight of Rosomak. “Major General!” I had meant to refer to him, but the explanation just sounded like I was demanding my referral. I smoothed out my uniform jacket, trying to make it look like I hadn’t been slouching over my ever rotating position at the group table. Despite its questionable color, the fabric was resilient enough to not wrinkle from something so small. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to see you. I hadn’t heard you’d be coming to East City.”

“It wasn’t planned, I’ll tell you.” Rosomak stroked his chin, nodding to the rest of the officers in the room. They returned the nonverbal greeting and got back to work, though Rito had a curious glint in her eyes that spelled inattention for her workload. “But they needed someone to pass on your final certification paperwork and watch, so I thought a bit of travel would do me some good.” He held up an envelope and box I hadn’t noticed before. “We’re glad to have you on board, Sickle Weasel Alchemist.”

“Thank you.” Steadying my hand, I received the load, placing the envelope on the table. It just held my official title certificate and confirmation of my successful documentation. The State Alchemist watch was much more exciting by far.

I slipped off the top of the cream colored box, revealing the splash of silver inside. The dark green lining in the box just made the watch stick out more. I’d heard about them, but never seen one in person. Holding it in my hand seemed like some sort of daydream. But I could run my fingers over the bumps of the Amestrian lion engraved into the front cover, and the latch popped open with swiftness to show me the time inside. The weight of pure silver rolled across my palms as I traded it back between one hand and the other, the chain wavering with each movement.

 _This is actually mine._ On instinct, I started trying to calculate just how much money the thing could get me if I pawned it off. _Idiot. You have plenty of money now. You don’t have to sell things anymore._

“Again, congratulations,” Rosomak said. He glanced to my papers, noticing the notes and scribbles along the edge. “I take it you haven’t found your purpose here as easily as you’d hoped.”

I ducked my head a bit, trying not to blush. Rito had leaned back in her seat to peer at Rosomak’s back but dodged the glare I gave her for eavesdropping. “Well, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I just underestimated the amount of busywork that would need to come before I could start trying to find an outlet for my energy.”

Rosomak nodded, a contemplative smile on his face. “Yes, there are plenty of difficulties on the way to finding yourself,” he said. I nodded, working on fastening my watch’s chain into my jacket. “You’re young, so I’m sure you’ll work out all sorts of things about yourself while you’re here.”

“I’ll try my best.” The fastener secured, I tucked the watch into an inside pocket of my jacket. The weight didn’t press into my ribs as much as I’d thought it would, but the presence was still there—the reminder to not just be a dog, but for the people. “If you don’t mind me asking, Major General, what made you want to become a State Alchemist yourself?”

“Oh?” Rosomak raised an eyebrow, then chuckled, the laugh warm. “Back then, I was mostly interested in the funding I could get for my research. I couldn’t go a day without thinking of some alchemical formula or another, and I supposed that if the government wanted to throw money at people like me, then I’d be remiss to take it.”

It was a pretty self-centered reason, but most alchemists I had met in my travels could at least sympathize with wanting more money to support themselves, with the lust of discovery. And even though most seemed to think in terms of using those discoveries and wellbeing to pass the good onto others, Liaoning was one of the few I’d met whose primary goal was to bring a town back to life. Or maybe I was just being cynical.

I tapped the toe of my boot against the ground. “And what about…’be thou for the people’?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t pushing into too personal territory. A terror still clung to my insides, of what other alchemists would say about me since I’d joined the ranks of the military’s dogs. “Did you ever feel like you were betraying that?”

Rosomak let out a deep hum, closing his eyes for a moment to think. Across the room, Kain chattered into a radio while Falman took notes beside him. Rito tapped a pen against her stretch of table in a nonsensical rhythm. “Back then, I didn’t think about such things. Becoming a State Alchemist was the best decision for me at the time.” Rosomak adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. “Then again, I’m a researcher, so I didn’t face the same things more combat oriented alchemists did. Struggles like the Ishval Civil War seemed distant to me, even as I helped develop more effective circles for combatants.”

I grimaced. Even Rito stopped her fidgeting and looked away. Ishval had happened when I was a child, but I knew plenty from newspapers and word of mouth. Mustang must’ve been a solider for a long time to have the rank he did now—had he been involved?

“But looking back now, I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish as much progress in my research without becoming the Metamorphic Alchemist first. And every piece of progress I’ve made has been published so that others can learn from it, State Alchemist or no.” Rosomak sighed, a touch of age and wisdom glistening in his eyes. “For me, young Miss Caiman, that’s my answer of how I’ve contributed to the people. Of course, the answer that works for me might not work for you, especially as you face the path of a combatant.”

“I understand,” I said, even though I realized how little I understood. Minor or no, I’d sold myself as a combat piece. As a military nation, the chances of me getting put into some conflict or another seemed high. If I had to face something like that, would I break? “I appreciate your thoughts. It gives me some things to consider on my own.”

Rosomak tapped a finger to his temple. “Oh, I have no doubt that brain of yours is working constantly.” I almost stuttered at the compliment. “Sometimes you only need to act on what you can do today for the sake of tomorrow. I’d focus on that for the moment. Oh, and…” His palm touched down to the table, on top of my list of scythe materials with a wide grin. “If you ever need more experimental material, don’t forget the network of comrades you have available to you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few other errands to run…”

I almost choked out my farewell as I processed that I’d just been offered access to the nation’s leading alchemist’s research materials.


	10. Ten

**Kamaitachi Chronicles**

By: Aviantei

Ten

* * *

With my watch secure and Rosomak’s research offer to encourage me, I was able to access my starting funds and go wild on purchasing supplemental materials, plus a cabinet to store them in. East City Headquarters, while large, didn’t have dedicated spacing to research facilities like Rosomak enjoyed in Central, so I had to set up the storage in my military dorm. A few boxes of materials worked their way into Mustang Unit’s office, and no one complained when I set up shop in the corner and fiddled with my scythe to waste away the days while everyone else communicated in hushed whispers behind me.

A week after dinner with the Hugheses, while I was adjusting the nickel ratio to see how it affected the stability of the blade, Mustang entered with a flash of red at his side. The Lt. Colonel looked exasperated, while Hanna Lindell could have been the sun herself with how bright her grin was.

“Good, you’re here, Kamaitachi,” Mustang said, crossing over to me. Hanna bounced along at his heels. Breda found a very intense interest in aligning the papers sprawled out before him just right. I was right to assume the girl was a little hellion. Mustang appraised the weapon in my hands. “Am I interrupting something vital, or are you and your weapon ready to go for a short run today?”

The look in his eyes very much suggested he would like it if the answer was no. Wanting to make him sweat, I stood with a smile. “I wasn’t aware you wanted to be so worldly with our referrals now,” I said. For some reason, being associated with the myth felt nice, even if Mustang had limited context. Maybe Liaoning would know. “If we’re taking that route, should I call you Honoo then?”

Hanna snickered. “That sounds so lame, Uncle Roy. Kama is way cooler.” I smiled at the girl, stopping just short of ruffling her hair. We might’ve just have been able to get along after all. “But you know Xingese? That’s so cool! I think alchemy’s awesome, but I wanna learn about alkahestry someday.”

Having her look at me with such a look of admiration was enough to make me want to sweat instead. Still, I hadn’t expected someone her age to even know about the eastern variation of alchemy. “Well, I just know a few scattered words. Not enough to become fluent.”

“Aw, too bad. I need a tutor…”

“As much as I encourage your dreams of travel, Hanna, that’s not what we’re here for,” Mustang said. The door opened, Rito entered, caught sight of Hanna, did then an about face back into the hall. “We’re at a stakeout period of our investigation, so I caught enough time for that exhibition match Hanna wanted. Of course, if you’re not ready, Caiman, it can wait ‘til later.”

I shrugged and transmuted my scythe back to its capsule form, already feeling lighter than before. If I could accomplish this much with standard materials, I could bet I’d be able to do something impressive with Rosomak’s input. Hanna watched the entire process with rapt fascination. “I think the tune ups I gave it could use a test drive. No time like the present, right?”

As someone who often had to do the same while in polite company, I very much recognized that struggle in Mustang’s eyes to not drop a curse word in front of Maes’s niece. “Well if you’re ready, we might as well take care of it.” He glanced around the room and sighed. “We’re not going to make a big show of it, but if you guys wanted to take a break and watch, I’ll allow it.”

Breda regarded Hanna, then nodded. Rito’s head popped around the edge of the door, proclaiming her exuberant conferral. Kain declined in order to stay with the radio in case there was development from the rest of their unit. Lead by Mustang, Hanna skipping at his flank, we made our way out of the office area of the building and towards the training areas.

I had been given a tour of the headquarters, so I knew where all the rooms were, from shooting ranges to outdoor areas where solders could run. It wasn’t anything in comparison to an actual military academy, but it had more than enough accommodations to keep every member of the East City headquarters in top shape.

Bypassing the shooting galleries, we approached one of several sparring and training areas. The layout was comparable to the practical exam area, except there wasn’t a gallery overhead. One of the outdoor stretches might have made a safer arena, given our alchemy, but Mustang hadn’t been kidding about not making a spectacle of the event.

Rito, Breda, and Hanna lined up at the edge of the room, the youngest bouncing up and down like she was about to watch a circus performance. Mustang and I took our positions at the center of the room, him putting on his gloves while I rolled my shoulders. I tossed my capsule back and forth between my palms a few times before triggering the transmutation to scythe.

Spinning a few times to get used to the weight distribution of one blade on each end, I widened my stance to better my balance. “You better not go easy on me this time,” I said. “I want you to treat me like a real enemy, alright?” Sure as hell I was going to take the opportunity to not go easy on him.

“Short of death, I’m assuming.” Mustang raised a hand, poised to snap, but didn’t follow through on the movement. “It wouldn’t do us any good to have our newest asset go up in flames so soon.”

Hanna giggled from the sidelines, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Kick her ass, Uncle Roy!”

“Hanna, language—”

The frustration I had numbed away by constant tweaks on my scythe erupted, and I took the first rush forward, keeping my swing close enough to defend myself if need be. Mustang’s charcoal eyes flicked over the situation, and he stepped back. His snap burst through the air, and a thin jet of flame crackled down on my right side, hot enough for the heat to sear my skin even through the thick fabric of my uniform.

I pivoted out of the way, whipping one blade at Mustang’s chest. He read the blow, and snapped right in the path of my blade. I had tempered the metal enough that it wouldn’t break from such an attack, but warmth pressed into my palms. What a ridiculous concentration of heat and fire.

I skidded back, taking a quick check over my shoulder to make sure I didn’t hit the wall. As before, he had the advantage in range. The difference from the first time we fought was his accuracy. He knew very well how to hit precise areas and burn them to a crisp.

A thought crossed my mind: _Maybe I got lucky that he went easy on me._

_Oh, shut it!_

I spun my scythe for a quick stabilizing transmutation. I hadn’t lost any material from the attack, so I could keep it from breaking, though the compound was holding up as well as I had hoped. It was a marked improvement from my stumble during the practical.

Too bad backing up had been a mistake.

Other than experience, the biggest disadvantage I had against Mustang was that he was a long range fighter. My scythe may have granted better reach than someone swinging their fists around, but I still needed to be closer to swipe at someone. Mustang knew that as well as I did, setting off a series of small explosions that kept me running along the edge of the arena and far away from him.

I skimmed over the wall, finding nothing but plain walls, save for a few cracks from sparring damage. Nothing worthwhile besides the door and the audience. Well, it may have been a dick move, but it was a move I could make. Setting a course that looked like I was letting Mustang corral me into a corner, I swerved off guard, right for Hanna, Rito, and Breda. Breda yelped and dived backwards, Rito watched me, ready to follow suit if necessary, and Hanna grinned, leaning closer to watch.

Sure enough, the closed space meant Mustang could keep firing at me, or fire at the bystanders—and since Hanna was there, I didn’t think he’d be willing to set off explosions near a child. Recognizing my path, Mustang shot his next flame in front of me, cutting off the route. Ready for it, I twisted myself in the other direction and skidded towards the Lt. Colonel, aiming a ground level kick at his legs, my scythe scraping against the floor behind me.

Mustang jumped back, a fresh snap sending fire right into my path. I jammed the back blade of my scythe down, cutting off my momentum enough that I missed the blast, though the floor took a nasty hit. Plenty close enough, I hopped to my feet, arcing my scythe overhead and managing to rip through the transmutation circle on Mustang’s right hand. Rito let out a surprised hoot.

Unlike our first fight, he was also wearing one on his left.

Smoke clouded my eyes and mouth, and I swerved right, trying to get a clear shot at his second ammunition. The speed of his fire cut in half from the loss of one glove, but Mustang could still set up a line of fire that was tricky for me to get around. Refusing to lose ground again, I zigzagged back and forth to stay out of his way.

Performing long range transmutations wasn’t difficult, but I only had the circle on my scythe to work with, as Mustang had his gloves. Prepared circles were a necessity for fighting—for the role I was taking on. I shook my head free of the distraction. This fight wasn’t about finding my purpose; it was about showing the ass in front of me that I didn’t need a handicap to win.

Mustang continued to lie down fire, half the shots cutting off my path, the rest trying to knock out my scythe. I may have been nimble, but I couldn’t outpace a chemical reaction like his alchemy. Dodging on instinct, I caught sight of a skipped line of fire and took the chance, whisking through the lines of soot on the floor. Scythe still pulsing heat against my sweating palms, I took the short swing, snagging the remaining glove and tearing it away, just as Mustang readied his next attack. Rito and Breda provided a short burst of applause, while Hanna let out loud humph.

The next sound I heard wasn’t a snap, but a click.

It took me a moment to register the gun pressed into my diaphragm.

“If I was taking this seriously, you’d be dead,” Mustang said. The blossom of euphoria in my chest was crushed under the press of metal. Even with the layers of my uniform, it felt way too close. “I don’t deny that you can put up a good fight, but don’t assume the opponents you’ll take on will be so helpless they don’t have ways to stand against your blade.” Mustang lowered his gun and reset the safety before returning it to its holster with a frown. “Have you ever used a gun before?”

Still remembering how to breathe, I shook my head.

“Right, you’re going to be required for basic instruction before you do anything like a mission.” Mustang brushed a hand through his hair and turned to the side. “Happy now, Hanna?”

Hanna took her cue, racing over to hug Mustang’s side with a grin. “That was super cool, Uncle Roy. I knew you’d win!” My tongue was too stuck to the roof of my mouth to even think about clicking it. Hanna regarded me, then the scythe hanging at my side. She leaned forward, observing her reflection in the blade. “That’s kind of cool, but is it still alchemy if you just use it to make a weapon?”

“There’s lots more I can do,” I said on instinct, clutching the handle tight enough that I could feel the blood flow still in my fingers. “Like I said, I just needed to test out my adjustments in a fight.” They had done fine. It was the opponent that was the problem. Stepping back so as not to whack Hanna in the face, I transmuted my scythe to its capsule and away from the girl’s scrutiny. “Just wait ‘til I get the materials worked out. I’ll give you an even better show next time.” I ignored the sideways look Mustang gave me.

Hanna nodded. “When you do, fight Uncle Roy again. He’ll still beat you, though.”

_Why you—_

“No more exhibition matches for a while, alright?” Mustang said, extracting Hanna to a more reasonable distance. She pouted. This time, I was in perfect agreement with Mustang’s decision. “I need to be finishing up this investigation as soon as possible. Speaking of which—Breda!” The man nodded and crossed over to us, Rito right behind him. “I’m going to need you to switch onto stakeout duty this evening, let Havoc have a break.”

“Yes, sir!”

“And Rito.” The woman saluted, still smiling. Mustang patted my shoulder (I did my best not to flinch). “Kamaitachi here needs some combat style variety. I want you to work that out with her and make sure she’s at the required standard for fieldwork. Take as much time as you need.”

“You got it, Roy.” Rito wasted no time in commandeering my shoulders as her personal armrest. I regretted putting my scythe away for the moment. I didn’t need to stab the woman, but the weapon tended to work as a personal contact determent. “You and me are gonna have a great time, Caiman. I’ll show you some neat tricks, then we can work out more stuff to do with that scythe of yours.”

I took a slow breath through my nose and tried not to sound like I thought this was an awful idea. “It’ll be nice to work with you…”

Mustang nodded. “And we’ll have Hawkeye help with firearms training once this mission’s over,” he concluded.

“Oh, oh!” Hanna bounced in place. “What about me, Uncle Roy? What do I get to do?”

“You,” Mustang said, putting his hands on the girl’s shoulders and steering her towards the door, “are going to go home before your aunt sends Maes after me to get you back for lunch.”

Hanna acquiesced and trounced out the room. “Aw, that’s no fun…” Breda dismissed himself back to the office, and I tried to wriggle my way out from underneath Rito’s arm.

“God, what a fucking mess…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” I sighed, then looked around the scraped and singed floor. “Do you want to start this here, or should we go somewhere that doesn’t look like a warzone?”


	11. Eleven

**Kamaitachi Chronicles**

By: Aviantei

Eleven

* * *

“Alright, left, left, and…too slow!”

Rito’s arm hooked around my elbow, tipped my balance, and had me sprawling on the floor, arm twisted behind my back. She held the position just long enough for me to smell the sweat engrained into the floor, then stood up. I pulled myself into a sitting position and rolled my shoulder, feeling the telltale bump of a knot forming right underneath the blade.

“You’re not lacking in understanding of moves,” Rito said, looking me over. I let my body heat seep out into the cool training mat beneath me. “But you’re way too textbook in your reactions. There’s a lot of things you can make up for with putting on an extra bit of muscle for your size, but that won’t help if you’re telegraphing yourself all over the place.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, not able to hold back my grumbling. We’d been practicing for two weeks together, and Rito could still wipe the floor with me in hand to hand combat. It wasn’t just her size advantage over me, but the skill I hadn’t thought she could have based on her playful disposition. Not a façade, but just another layer she used when necessary. I should’ve known better since she was in the military.

If Rito ever tried to play up her cheerfulness to throw the enemy off guard, she’d have an even bigger advantage. It had worked on me.

“Well, the only way you’re gonna get better at this is by practicing.” Rito offered me a hand, and I took it, grateful for the chance to conserve some energy. I wasted enough of it failing to put up an even decent fight against my instructor. Rito stepped back, then went into a starting position. “Go ahead.”

I readied my own stance, trying to pick out any obvious weaknesses in Rito’s defense. Mustang had led me to believe he’d made a mistake in his firewall and used that to lure me in. If someone told me he’d gotten that technique from Rito, I would’ve believed them, seeing as I could never get a clean hit that way. Noting that she’d left her side open, I skipped the formalities and made my first strike for her head.

With a twitch of her neck, Rito slipped away from my fist, then readied a counter blow for my stomach. I used my forearms to block, but the force was enough to add another bruise to the purple and blue carpets all over my body. It was the sort of use of her own force that made practice of her momentum over her muscle.

Not that she was lacking in that, either. Our uniforms covered up most officer’s muscle structure, but once we’d swapped to workout clothes, Rito just looked so skinny because she didn’t have a damn ounce of fat on her.

That toned arm didn’t waste a second in snatching my wrist from the latest punch, trying to lock my joint. I went to chop at her elbow, hoping to break her hold. Her other hand intercepted, leaving us in a cross armed grapple. We both aimed a kick at each other’s knees, though I managed to hook my foot around her leg first and jerked forward. Rito pitched off balance, and just as I was about to send a knee into her stomach, Rito jerked her arms to my right, where my leg was poised to strike. We both toppled over. Caught off guard, I tried to brace myself; the instigator, Rito released her hold on me enough to switch her position. My elbow crashed into the mat first, then my torso, all with Rito’s forearm pressed into the back of my neck.

“Better,” she said, “but I’m still not gonna let you play with that scythe until you can knock me down at least once.”

I groaned, more than well acquainted with the taste of the plastic that came with it. “I know there’s a chance I’ll get disarmed, but you could at least let me use it a little.”

Rito scuffed her foot across the practice mat. “Now, that wouldn’t count as motivation to improve, now would it?” I rolled onto my back, letting myself enjoy the respite of lying on the ground. Rito leaned over me, her short hair swaying. “Roy wasn’t kidding that you could face opponents willing to kill in this job. We don’t think you’re weak; we just want you to be able to protect yourself in any way possible.”

“I get it.” For all the times she’d told me, I didn’t even need my memory to remember. Didn’t make it feel any less condescending, though. Of course, that might have been thanks to Mustang’s name attached to the sentiment. I tugged on the collar of my shirt to let the heat out. “What _am_ I going to be doing? To be honest, the lack of transparency makes it really hard to stay motivated.” I knew my duties as a State Alchemist well enough, but the specific details of being under Mustang’s watch weren’t included in my initiation paperwork.

Rito peered at me, then plopped down cross legged to the ground. “Ya know, I don’t get why Roy’s being so stubborn about telling you at least that. I get that you’re young, but you’ve been approved for the job.” She hummed a bit, taking off her glasses to chew on the ear piece. “You deserve to know, Caiman, but we’re not a standard military unit, you know?”

“Considering my inclusion, I guessed as much.” And even besides that, everyone had been in and out on their investigation ever since I’d arrived, but there hadn’t been any details in the paper concerning the incidents. “Military presences are often for protection or police work. East City isn’t in the line of fire for any nearby countries, so having a combat based State Alchemist positioned here seems strange.”

“Two, counting you.” Rito poked a matching number of fingers at me, but rolling out of the way would have involved landing on my bruises, and I just wasn’t feeling that. “You know we’re investigating an assault and murder case. That’s the sort of things we get dragged into _because_ we have a combat based State Alchemist.”

“Are you telling me double the firepower is gonna lead to double the trouble?”

Rito snickered but sobered up fast. “Well, I really hope not. It’s tough enough taking care of a kid with the workload we have now.”

Pure shock bolted me upright, my skin peeling away from the mat. “Wait, you have a kid?” Sure, she was older than me, so it wasn’t that unusual. But I couldn’t imagine trying to raise a child with all the risks of military work, especially a job like this. She and Maes were on a different level. I glanced at her hand, sorting through my memories to figure out if she had a ring or not.

“What, did you expect me to wear my ring while I try to punch you in the face?” She caught my gaze, her smile returning as she reached for the thin chain around her neck. Two rings spilled out from her shirt, one small but beautiful diamond, the other a plain wedding band. “Have a little faith in me, Caiman. I wouldn’t want to break them on that hard head of yours.”

I simmered, but the surprise of the matter stilled my tongue from producing a retort. “Okay, but, your husband’s okay with taking care of your kid?” Not that fathers couldn’t do so. My own parents had shared the work of raising me together, for what little time they’d been able to do it for. But you didn’t see many families where the wife was the breadwinner.

“Well, we kind of rely on my dad to help out a lot,” Rito said, rolling her rings between her fingers. “Jean gets just as busy as I do. But we do have regular family time. You should’ve heard Maes pestering Roy about giving us more regular breaks so we could raise Jeremy right. Once this case is closed, we’re going to take a small trip together…”

“Jean, huh? Wait, you mean _Havoc_?”

Rito scratched the back of her head. “Did we not mention that?”

“No, you didn’t.” I rubbed at my temples, the skin still slick with sweat. “Is this some sort of avoidance of an anti-fraternization policy I didn’t hear about? Is that why you two have separate last names?” There was an office rumor if I’d ever heard one.

“Nothing like that. As long as it doesn’t interfere with office work, relationships are okay. Jean and I were dating before we joined the military anyways.” Deciding I didn’t want to be subject to all the little details that had lead up to that, I decided to avoid prying more. “But we ended up in the same unit, so we decided it’d be easier to keep our names separate at work instead of hearing ‘Havoc, Havoc’ everywhere, you know?”

I nodded. Rito stood back up, crossing to her things on the side of the room and rifling around until she found a pocket watch. “Well, I didn’t mean to take a break like that, but it’s about lunch, so let’s—ah, shit. Is that today?”

Quirking a brow at the unusual display of irritation, I forced myself into standing and walking over to her. Sunlight glinted off Rito’s glasses, and I opened the window, thankful for the cool breeze. “Sorry, Caiman,” Rito said, gathering up her things, “I forgot I needed to cover for Fuery on communications board while he swaps out with Falman today. It’s as boring as ever up there, but someone’s gotta do it.” Realizing she was headed for the door, I tugged on my jacket and snatched up my capsule and watch, trying to keep pace behind her. Rito glanced over her shoulder. “Take the afternoon to yourself. We’ll pick this up tomorrow, alright?”

I rushed up to Rito’s side, emulating her steady clip. “You say it’s boring like you’re not making progress.”

“That’s ‘cause we’ve locked our suspect into a stalemate; they know we’re watching them, but we don’t have enough concrete evidence to make a move. And of course we want to avoid any more casualties…but it’s not like we can lure them out without proper bait. We just don’t have anyone among us who fits the profile.” Rito nodded to a passing officer but didn’t stop to chat like she tended to do en route to training. She was in a focused work mode. _Getting information’s gonna be easiest or most difficult now._

I worked on fastening up my jacket, trapping what was left of my body heat inside. “What’s that profile like?”

Rito glanced at me, her stern look slipping into that of a wry smile. “Nice try, Caiman, but the Lt. Colonel would fry me if I got you involved in this one.” She ruffled my hair, then broke ahead of me as we approached the office. “Seriously, go home or do research or something. We’ll have this case taken care of in no time, then you won’t have a thing to worry about.”

Stopping, I pushed my hair back into place as Rito slipped inside, her bright voice audible even as the door shut. I’d just been kicked out of the workplace, which was just as if not more frustrating as being kept out of the case in general.

“When you try to keep me out of it, that pretty much tells me I’m included in the victims profile, you know,” I said to myself.

Letting out a huff, I stalked away from the door. I wouldn’t be learning anything useful by failing to get into the office.

Trailing Kain, on the other hand, would yield much more effective results.

* * *

All my travels meant that I had gotten used to moving around with just what I could carry in my pockets and my suitcase, so I didn’t have anything to collect from the office. Tucking myself around the corner of the hallway that didn’t lead to the building’s entrance, I waited to near frustration until Kain emerged, then followed behind him, acting as casual as possible. When other soldiers would pass, I gave them short greetings and continued on.

Kain took the expected path, heading straight for the entrance and out into the party cloudy afternoon. Officers trailed in and out of the building, mingling in with passerby in the streets. Kain was short, but there wasn’t enough of a crowd to lose him in as he walked down the sidewalk. I had expected him to take a car. Was the stakeout location closer than I thought? Whoever the perpetrator was, they had some balls acting so close to a military headquarters.

The number of soldiers dwindled, and I tugged off my jacket in hopes of not sticking out in case Kain glanced behind him. I couldn’t do much about the pants, but, unlike Rito, I hadn’t brought my own workout clothes along for the sake of getting use to the damn cape attached to my uniform. Kain crossed the street near some office buildings, heading towards a small shopping district. I’d heard Breda mention it was a common place for soldiers to eat since it was so close.

Was Kain going for lunch? My own stomach twisted, empty from all the exercise of the morning. If he did end up eating, I would have to get a good lookout spot across the street—one with a decent meal. The military fare at East City headquarters, while somewhat better than the hotel in Central, was repetitive enough that I was starting to go stir crazy.

Being late afternoon, there were still remnants of the lunch rush, but no restaurant seemed packed to the brim. Colored umbrellas stood over outdoor tables. The few customers brave enough to eat their lunch in the chill had empty plates and steaming mugs before them, relaxing post-meal. I watched Kain, trying to guess where he might stop, but he walked passed every storefront without so much as a glance.

I almost didn’t catch the alleyway he turned into, having to recheck my memory to make sure that was what had happened. Not wanting to lose him, I jogged around a chatting couple. Slipping between a bakery and a café, I entered, but trash cans and a few pigeons met me. Kain had already disappeared from sight. Cursing, I sprinted toward the other end of the alley, grinding to a halt at the flash of blue in my peripheral.

Kain stood up from behind the trashcans as I spun around. “Rito said you’d try to do this, but I kind of hoped you’d stay home, Caiman.” No wonder he’d taken so long leaving; Rito had been tipping him off.

“I want to help,” I said. When you looked at it, my status as a State Alchemist put me at a higher rank then him, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull that on him. “Listen, your culprit’s after kids like me, right?” Kain winced. My guess had been correct. “Let me be the bait. I can defend myself, and you guys can step in if things get messy. This’ll be over in no time.”

Kain glanced about, stepping closer to me and keeping his voice low. “Did Rito tell you the victim pool? Mustang’s not gonna be happy if she did…”

“Not to brag, but I’m smarter than most people my age.” And most ones older, too. I had far more information running around in my memory than some people could even fathom. “I don’t know all the details, but I could guess at the way you were all dancing around me. Whatever your victims are, I fit. I don’t mind if you use me.”

“That’s not it at all.” Kain sighed, glancing to the alley wall. I adjusted my stance and forced him to keep eye contact. The pigeons cooed on the ground, hopping between trashed leftovers from the café. “The Lt. Colonel knows you’d make a good ruse. But you’re not trained enough, so he’s playing it safe so we don’t have any incidents.”

I snorted, squaring my shoulders. Having to negotiate all my own living arrangements as a girl traveling solo had taught me how to not get screwed over: set yourself tall; don’t take shit. “And run a stalemate until your suspect gets impatient and goes wild instead.” I flicked my still tousled bangs out of the way. “Sounds like a brilliant strategy. I shouldn’t have expected less.”

Chatter tumbled in from the street, almost covering Kain’s voice. “Caiman, I don’t want to argue over this with you. We’re all really grateful to have someone like you in our unit. We just want that to last as long as possible.” His own expression went stern and he straightened up. “Just let us handle this and stay out of the north end of town. We will take care of it.”

“North end of town, huh?” Goosebumps pricked at my arms, from the chill and anticipation.

Kain didn’t curse, but he did bite his tongue. He shook his head out and strode past me, calling over his shoulder, “I’m going now. Don’t follow me again.” He stopped at the edge of the alley, giving me one last pleading look. “And, Caiman, please forget what I just said.”

I watched him go, shaking out my jacket before slipping it back over my shoulders.

“Sorry, Kain,” I mumbled to the pigeons, “forgetting things just isn’t in my skillset.”


End file.
